


Heart Like A Hand Grenade

by LinkWorshiper



Category: Gundam Wing/AC
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkWorshiper/pseuds/LinkWorshiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Title: <i>Heart Like a Hand Grenade</i><br/>Author:</b> Link Worshiper</p>
    </blockquote>





	Heart Like A Hand Grenade

**Author's Note:**

> **Title: _Heart Like a Hand Grenade_  
> Author:** Link Worshiper

**Title: _Heart Like a Hand Grenade_  
Author:** Link Worshiper

Pairings: 1=2, with mentions/insinuations of others, including unrequited H+2 and unrequited Solo +1 and +2  
Warnings: various POVs, post EW, possibly OoC, language and angst like whoa, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll  
Disclaimer: GW is copyright Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency; _'American Idiot'_ is the creative property of Green Day.

Stuff: Even if you're already familiar with _'American Idiot'_ and its story (and other rock opera classics), I hope you still enjoy this GW interpretation. Written for the 'Seven Deadly Sins' Moments of Rapture contest, 2007.

Also, I want to make a note in advance that this has a lot of potential to be very offensive. The language warning is not a mild one here. I strongly advise _against_ any thus related drinking games. And please be wary of the fact that some of the characters condone some rather... unpleasant activities. They're meant to be uncomfortable, but in case that's not your cup of tea, here's warning well in advance.

Big thanks to BadMomma, danse and Natea for helping me organize my thoughts and acting as the lead quality testers. Also, thanks to anybody who helped me find direction with their thoughts, feelings and opinions during the writing process.

This is sort of old, f f .net people, but I’m posting it to prove I have not died and am just merely very busy. I hope it keeps you sated for now. You can check other fics of mine on my site, zephyr121 . com if you are still in need of fic while I try and get my life together.

[indicates things that were crossed out in the original formatting] Stupid ff . net doesn’t understand the code though.

\- -

_"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." _

\-- William Shakespeare

\- -

Letter dated 02 / 23 / AC207  
From D.M to the 'L2 Daily Bugle'  
[returned to sender]

To Whom It May Concern:

If I sound pissed off to you, you better know that I damn well am. And this is me speaking to you not as a former Gundam pilot, but as a citizen of L2 and the greater ESUN when I say that whoever is responsible for the articles regarding the recent Ministry elections should be fired on the spot for writing some of the most propagandist shit I've seen since Kushrenada was riding high. I don't know why I continue to be shocked that just when it seems like things are starting to roll towards a more open and understanding existence for everyone, there still seem to be assholes with inexplicably visible places in society who have to continue to fuck things up.

The suggestions you made about Relena Darlian protecting war criminals is more than a goddamn personal insult, I'll have you know. Just because she supports those who stood up for her ideals when no one else did doesn't mean she's responsible for every misguided atrocity that's attributed to us. If anything, she should be commended for helping us come to terms with our wrongdoings before we became proprietors of war right along with OZ. Even if we had different ways of fighting for it, we all believed in peace. I want to know what the fuck's your excuse?

In idiot's terms, she's hardly deserving of your smear campaign, if you need me to spell it out for you in plain fucking Standard. Under her guidance, you could see things starting to head for the better -- at least a hell of a lot fucking better than they were back when I was ten and sucking maggots out of rotten apples to get through a day. She may be a tender 26 years old, but she knows her shit. Wisdom definitely doesn't come with age, despite what you argued on behalf of her competitors; if anything, I think you get even more retarded the older you get, if that says anything to you. I think it sometimes takes the observations of someone a little less jaded to see the way we should be going. So she dares to ask why we can't just drop weapons and be friends. You ask why, and I ask why not. Just because she knows the power of a question, you run scared. I'm reiterating here how goddamn deplorable you are.

And now look at the dominos you knocked over. Part of me doesn't blame Director Une for resigning her position as Chief of the Preventers Department with all the louts that are crawling out of the woodwork to replace Relena's people, but Jesus Christ, talk about scaring the last pivotal person out of the government webbing. You show me someone who can run that regiment as shipshape as she did, and I'll show you her goddamn daughter -- Kushrenada's brat, for godsakes. That new guy you scared the public into electing with the hysterics you were plastering your headlines with is hardly fit for the job -- a gnarly little monkey with beady eyes and big ears. 'To make peace is to prepare for war'? Are you serious? That's who you want running the only remotely militant regime left on the planet? Fucking awesome decision, L2 Bugle.

Isn't this where we came in?

Sincerely,  
Duo Maxwell  
Former Pilot 02

\- -

Entry dated 03 / 03 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Rock 'n' roll is gonna do me in, I just know it. Funny how your best friends turn out. Rock 'n' roll, that is -- not the guys. Well, maybe them too, though I'm not so sure, since it's been a while and the only one I see anymore is Hilde and then Quatre, sometimes. It's hard to tell if they've changed -- even Hilde, and I fucking share a business with her. At least the music doesn't change, no matter how many times you play the damn stuff. Is it bad I talk more to old recordings than the few people I actually associate with on a day-to-day basis? Maybe it's just the box of blues I've been popping lately. I can't fucking handle Hilde and her ticking biological clock without them, I swear to God.

She's like really into this family thing and it sort of creeps me out. I can't tell if it's a new thing or something she ditched and came back to once the war got off her plate. I mean, that's all great and everything, but I wish she'd stop staring after me like she expects me to help her out with it or something. It's ridiculous, too, because she _knows_ \-- better than anybody, I bet -- just exactly how I feel about Heero, even if she sometimes pretends like she has no idea who he is when he comes up in conversation. I don't know what her problem with him is, but it's been putting a damper on our business operation.

Maybe that's what's been getting to me about going into work lately, speaking of. It's just this giant void of boring while I'm there. Our desks face each other, but we don't really talk anymore -- not like we used to, and not without aggravating each other. She does the accounts with this really stern brow and I throw darts at the back of the door when I've got nothing else to do. I think she's got this opinion that I'm a slacker or that I don't pull my weight or something like that, but I blame it on her getting cozy with this normal life thing. Like I mentioned, she keeps going on like the most important thing in the world is having goddamned kids and all that crap, and it's like she's completely oblivious to all the problems that are starting to rot through the fruit basket. There's so much more to goddamn life than Max &amp; Hilde's Scrap, Inc., for chrissakes.

You know, considering, I suppose rock 'n' roll isn't such a bad companion to keep around when you haven't got anybody else who sees the real you. Sometimes, that's okay, because at least the music does. Still, the rest of the time, it's like you're shouting, 'Is anybody out there!?' out over the wall and no one hears you but your own echo. Not that it matters; it doesn't seem like she'll be letting me hang around for too much longer with the way things are going.

All I can say is, thank God for headphones that drown out everything from Hilde to the apocalypse. Though I don't suppose I'll ever know if Heero would still make me think of 'Learning to Fly' if I ever saw him again. But when the only thing fit to do with my life was ignore it, I kind of like to think he would.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 03 / 10 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Hilde sent me out to buy some stuff for the office fridge, but I think she was really just trying to get rid of me for a little bit. She had me way strung out before I left, though, and I wasn't really sure if even the promise of hitting the Bellboy up for a few blues was going to help any. Though I still kind of hoped he was hanging around the Jinglemart lot; the Bellboy always knew what was what. He sang you help better than any shrink could.

The Bellboy was bored, so I waited for him to finish his cig so he could help me do the shopping. He said he'd make a deal in exchange for a new pack of lights and some malted milk balls. The Bellboy was just mellow like that, though. I thought he kind of looked like some sort of mod relic with the zoot suit, this kind of shaggy, Beatles-looking haircut and fishhooks sewed under his lapels. I guess that was just sort of his way. No one really knows where the hell he came from or where he lived, but he was kind of a back alley legend -- sort of like how Solo used to be, but nowhere near as punk ass. He liked to call me Jesus because of my long hair, and that suited me fine. Though sometimes I got this feeling like he knew more about me than he let on.

He sympathized with my problems concerning Hilde -- said something about dealing with something like it with his parents way back before the war. Gesturing with a baguette, he said you couldn't help it if They all don't get it... if They all can't see the real you. "The motto's a lie," he said, bread still in hand. "You know, the one that says 'Home is where the heart is.' Because not everyone's heart beats the same, you know?"

I told him I didn't think my heart was beating at all.

He didn't say anything else about it, though, and despite the intention, his comments left me wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I'd always supposed that I was exactly how I was supposed to be, but maybe I was wrong. I thought back to the war days and how I used to feel, trying to decide if it had always been like this, and it dawned on me that all this time since, maybe I hadn't been home at all.

The Bellboy traded me for about a week's worth of blues for the stuff I'd bought him; I even tossed in a new Zippo for the two-cent advice -- it had given me a lot to think about, anyway. I didn't know what I'd say to Hilde, though, or if I should say anything at all. She might have been kind of grating on my nerves, but I think it was probably because I was just jealous she was better at coping than I was -- that she had a life and I didn't. Maybe I'll stay shut up, then.

I took the long way back, more than willing to take my time on the way back to Gethsemane. Milk didn't rot if it was out of the fridge for an extra twenty goddamn minutes, anyway, I figured. Walking down a quiet side street, I skipped the cracks in the pavement and wondered how the fuck I'd come back to this place -- and why. It was a fucking dead end, full of one-way signs that didn't lead anywhere. I used to feel like I was going places, like getting up every morning made a goddamn difference, and it made me wonder how the hell I'd managed to let myself get so turned around. I felt like I was a mockup of my old self, hardly the cocky sonuvabitch I was when I was fifteen or the superhero I thought I was when I was ten.

Along the way, I slowed down in front of an electronics store, momentarily captivated by the televised image of Relena on a few of the screens behind the grating covering the display window. She'd started organizing peace rallies since she'd lost her official bid in ESUN politics. "Are we the Waiting?" she'd scream, and her disciples would all shout back, "We are!" I wondered what it felt like to still have something to fight for. The media was still trashing her like a bad plague that wouldn't go away, but that didn't tie her down. (Why isn't Hilde like her?) I feel like it probably pissed me off more than it did her, but I still I wished I could help her give those suits the finger. It's something Heero would have wanted, anyway.

And of course, the bottom just had to drop on both the shit bags they'd packed the food in at the Jinglemart. I remember swearing loud enough for the other side of the street to hear and kicking a can of baked beans nearly half a block. What a bumfuck, damned city. No one here even cares that it hardly even exists.

Not that I give a shit, either.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Unfinished letter dated 03 / 12 / AC207  
Unsent from D.M. to H.Y.

Dearly Beloved,

Thought I ran into you down on the street, but when I went and ran a search on your whereabouts and came up blank, it turned out I must have been dreaming. I mean, I don't think I have any photographs of you or anything, but I'm sure I could never forget your face -- especially your eyes. Do you even know how blue they are? But I'd been so sure it was you.

You know, after the whole Dekim Barton fiasco, you disappeared without a trace. I'd thought you'd have at least wanted to stick around with Relena or something, but I guess even you know when someone can take care of themselves. But when you went away, I don't think you realized what you left behind you. Maybe I just saw things falling together a different way once the dust settled, saw my life taking a different path. Did yours turn out the way you envisioned? I hope so.

I sometimes feel like I've walked down this same line like a million and one fucking times. Do you feel like that too? Alive, but not breathing, speaking, but not saying anything? I don't understand how my life used to be such a hurricane, but all the confusion is outside the maelstrom. Maybe it's some instinct I have to keep running the second I land on my feet. Maybe you know where I'm trying to go. Or where I'm trying to escape from.

I know you'd say the regrets are useless, but you're in my head. You always are -- always have been. I don't feel any shame, and I won't apologize for asking, but do you ever won[der about me? And did you ever really believe in me? Do you still?]

[the rest of the page is torn out]

\- -

Letter dated 03 / 23 / AC207  
From H.S. to S.P.

Dear Sally,

You've got to help me. I've just about gotten to the end of the tracks and I don't know what to do anymore. Business is slipping and I'd started to notice that Duo has been a little bit off kilter lately. But now, I think he's just outright lost his mind. And I'm not talking in relative terms, like what we used to jokingly refer to as 'Maxwell Shenanigans', but like that he's actually not well. The few times I'd tried to bring it up to him, he'd deny it and then get angry at me, say I didn't know what in God's name I was talking about, which just made me wonder even more about what happened to the old Duo Maxwell. The other day, he tried to throw a dart at me when we started rowing with each other. I don't know if it's a good or a bad sign that he missed entirely.

You should have heard it, Sally. It was out of control. I knew Duo always had a temper, but it was never so volatile before. Now, even the littlest thing will send him over the edge and there's no telling what will cause the next blowout. Though this last time, I let it slip that I'd found this little bottle of blue pills on his desk -- something I'd initially told myself I wouldn't confront him on. God, he went off the deep end about it. Thank heaven OZ hadn't been slacking on the self-defense courses, because his first reaction was to vault off the lounge sofa and run at me like he meant to swing that mean right hook of his right into my jaw. I managed to knock him back onto his ass, and he just slumped down there like he'd wilted on the cushions. I started shouting at him -- said a lot of things I probably shouldn't have. Said he had to get the fuck over himself -- said, "Do you think you're Jesus nailed to that couch, suffering for my sins? And you think I'm the loser?"

He didn't respond -- just stared blankly at absolutely nothing -- and I wasn't really thinking about the words that were coming out of my mouth anymore... was just unloading any and everything that ever came to mind regarding my troubles with him lately. I told him he needed to accept the fact that peace was here to stay and that he had to unpack his goddamn wartime baggage for good -- baggage just like him -- you know... like H.Y. If I'd been merely trying to get him to notice me, then that certainly did the goddamn trick. He was on his feet, yelling again, and he had his flick knife out in one hand.

"I don't care if you don't care!" he was roaring at the top of his lungs like a bull on parade. "You're so full of SHIT -- a total hypocrite! And I don't even give a damn anymore!" I was too scared to move or do anything about it, but I honestly didn't know what he was going to do next. I probably should have called the blue boys or something, but in this neighborhood, who knows when they would have shown up.

He flew out of there and locked himself in the bathroom for at least three hours after that. Just this morning, I finished cleaning up all the graffiti he'd left in there with a Sharpie and a tube of my lipstick. His head is a mess, if the stuff he'd written on the walls was any hint. Things like 'I'm the son of RAGE and LOVE' and 'Faith and Misery' -- stuff like that. And a crusted, red handprint that has me a little concerned. I can't make any sense of it -- just like a bunch of poetic nothing, like what you'd find in that old rock music he won't stop listening to. He's shouting the words, but I don't hear a thing.

Best wishes,  
Hilde

PS  
Please let me know what you make of the enclosed photos ASAP.

\- -

Entry dated 03 / 25 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Why do I inevitably ruin every fucking home I become a part of? Without fail, it happens every goddamn time, like when a gambler is finally shit outta luck. If Hilde doesn't throw me out after what happened, I'm just gonna fucking walk out on my own. I can't stand to be around this dump anymore. It's not her fault, really -- just can't find the answers I'm looking for around here, is all, I guess. I don't know where I ever got the impression that getting with the fucking program after the wars would be easy, because it's definitely not. Maybe it's something in the water, I don't know. It's like I'm living in this weird strata between going nuts or maybe just a lot of fucking self-loathing.

It's just the way she fucking stares at me, you know? And I can't tell if she's the demented one or if I really am disturbed. I mean, I'm not goddamn perfect or nothing, so I don't know what she's expecting here. I'm not trying to make any excuses, but seriously, I don't see why she's accusing me of being the harbinger of every goddamn issue she's got in her life. It's not my fault our shit business sucks and that I'm too fucking fag for her and that life is just one big, sucking void. Everyone wants it to mean something, but lately, I can't help but feel like mine's been fucking wasted. Thanks for your time, Mr. Maxwell -- in and out, next please. They pat you on the back and then shove you out into the rain and you sit there on the goddamn street waiting for it to stop, but it doesn't.

I think I'm gonna try outrunning the storm clouds tonight. I used to know everything once, but now I feel like all I've got left is to run away the fuck away so I can find what I ought to believe. The other day, when Hilde had been screaming at me and insulting everything I ever thought was fucking important, I was thinking about what the Bellboy said and how I never really realized just how right he was until then. Here, all this time, I'd been thinking that it would be up to someone like Hilde, who'd had a normal childhood with normal parents and a normal home, to show me how to live, but it's becoming clearer she's definitely not the one for the job. You get to this point where you realize that if you just keep letting Them fuck you, the only one you've got to blame is yourself, and if you keep it up, you ought to be really fucking ashamed for allowing yourself to get screwed again and again. Well, I was fed up with it. If I fuck me, I'll fuck me in my own goddamn way. That was one of the most liberating things I'd ever come to realize.

I think the secret is letting it all the fuck go. And I don't mean letting go of the things that define you, but just the things that keep you goddamn stuck in one place. Maybe I don't know what defines me, and that's what the entire fucking problem is. Though in the end, the only thing you can bring is yourself anyway. I think there's something really wonderful in that feeling when it all falls apart and you have that break down. I suppose that's what they call Nirvana -- not Kurt's, but like the real kind. You just forget all that fucking shit and jump right in, and even if it's not the easiest thing, there's no one holding you the fuck back. It was like the first time I went free falling through zero gravity.

So I think I've made up my mind. It might take me a while, but I'm going to go to Earth and I'm going to find Relena and I'm going to help with her peace rallies. Maybe she'll know where the others are and how I could try and find Heero. This isolation is wearing me so fucking thin, I think. I miss feeling like I belong somewhere. That is, if I ever even fucking belonged anywhere at all.

My stupid palm still stings where I sliced it in the bathroom, and even though it's scarred over, it still kind of hurts to write. I'm just hoping that goddamn nail hadn't been rusty or something and I've got gangrene or something equally disgusting.

It's been raining a really long fucking time.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 03 / 27 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I thought leaving a note for Hilde in the kitchen would be more than enough. I wrote, "Going to find something to take me from this heartache. If no one is going to save me, I'm gonna save myself." I thought that was a good note: good and to the point, not pulling punches, not pretending or any of that phony shit I hate. Didn't expect her to be actually sitting in there when I went to leave it behind, though.

She had to have been on her tenth cup of coffee or something, just sitting at the table and staring at the little vid screen on the counter. The light from the screen was the only illumination there -- she was otherwise like this big, gaping shadow. I think she was watching Spike TV or something stupid like that. Or, at least giving the impression she was. Her eyes were so dark, it looked like she'd punched herself in the face. I felt a little twitch inside of me, like maybe I should have felt sorry for her, but I didn't. Wasn't a big deal that she didn't even really notice me come in, either. So I just did what came in to -- put the paper on the table and turned around to leave without a second thought.

I barely took a step when I felt something tight around my wrist. At first I thought I'd just snagged my watchband on something, so I just pulled, but it didn't let up. So I glared down my arm, and sure enough, there's goddamn Hilde still staring at nothing, but with her hand clamped around my wrist like she was holding me on a leash. I told her to let the fuck go -- I didn't have time for this kind of shit. Not now, not ever.

"You're leaving," she said in this really weird monotone.

I told her, "No shit."

She still didn't release me, even when I started jerking my arm a lot harder. "I said, let the fuck go!" I commanded her -- I was really starting to lose my goddamn patience. "You're not my mother. I don't have to listen to a goddamn word you say, Hilde!" I twisted around and started physically prying her fingers off my wrist with my other hand. I wanted to push her or smack her or something. She was pissing me off.

She said some mopey thing about not wanting me to go, admitting all this phony shit, like that she didn't mean all the things she said and that she should've been more receptive to my outcries and all that bullshit. I told her it was a little fucking late for apologies and then tried to get her to let me go for what seemed like the hundredth fucking time. I blamed her for all of it, outright told it was all her fucking fault. "You can't go forcing something if it's just not right, for God's sake!" I snapped.

"Oh, and what you're doing is?" she said, sounding really condescending. I didn't like her tone one single bit. I hated how she treated me like someone who was incapable of making good choices anymore.

I said, "I may be all mixed up, but at least I know what's right." I told her exactly what I thought, figuring there was no sense in pretending any other way at this point. I mean, I know we were the same age and that both of us hadn't really had all _that_ much life experience, despite what we'd all been through, but that shouldn't have made a difference. It was like she'd forgotten what it had once been like to fight, you know? I think that's what disgusted me the most.

Out of nowhere, she gave my arm this surprisingly strong jerk and reeled me into this pseudo-hug. She had her arms around my waist and her face buried into my stomach. I distracted myself with the flickering pictures on the vid screen, waiting for her to let up. I eventually had to push her off, though. She made my goddamn shirt wet with her stupid crying.

I can't tell if it was good or bad how little I fucking cared about her stupid feelings. I asked if she was done yet and she asked why I was doing this. I sighed the biggest sigh a person could and rolled my eyes. I said, "If you have to ask, then you really don't deserve to fucking know."

Up and down -- but in the end, it's only 'round and 'round. That's what was in my head as I walked off without even looking back. I picked up my small duffel bag, kicked open the front door and disappeared into the night, still thinking...

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 03 / 30 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I guess I'd forgotten how long it took to get from L2 to Earth, especially in one of these goddamn economy shuttles. This flight is dull and the seats are too fucking cramped, especially when you're almost all fucking legs.

I'd also love nothing more than to lock the wailing baby two rows back in one of the overhead compartments. Not because I can't stand hearing it cry, but because I feel bad for it. You're born knowing everything, you know? It's sad how you lose it the older you get. I'd want to try and force everything that's probably seeping out of the kid right back in -- keeping it in a small space should help, right? I kind of wanted to cry along with it.

They turned off the cabin lights about three hours ago, but it's been kind of hard falling asleep. Not really because I'm too fucking tall for these tiny rows, but more because I keep imagining that Heero is doing his best to fill the empty seat next to mine. I missed that comforting feeling that he was somewhere around, watching my back, like way back in the day. I bet he'd zonk the hell out with his arms around the crap pillow they provide for you on these things and he'd drool a little. Heero was good at making the world seem like it didn't matter. It got me thinking about what kind of things he dreamt about -- if Heero was the sort to dream at all. I wonder if his screamed as loud as mine did.

I think I forgot the blues back in my office desk.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Article dated 03 / 29 / AC207  
Report by Chang W.  
For the 'ESUN International Herald'

BRUXELLES, BELGIUM -- Without a doubt, whether in office or on the streets, Relena Darlian continues to be one of the most influential people of our modern era. Today, in the center of the Grand-Place, Miss Darlian led a peaceful demonstration of about 5,000 strong, decrying the legislation being passed by the newly elected officials of the ESUN. As was always her way, she spoke eloquently and passionately about the importance of international relations, especially in the cradle of our new nation's existence.

Her devotees stood solemnly in the damp spring weather beneath a canopy of multicoloured umbrellas and ponchos, feeding on her every word. A few picket signs could be seen breaking the sea of heads, reading things like 'Down with the Neo Earth Alliance!' and 'Reinstate Queen Relena!' In a way, the fruits of her work during the war years could be seen among these people -- those who no longer wished to be divided with thick walls between the borders of their homelands.

"Our cities will burn if we are not careful with this new flame we have kindled for our future," she declared over loudspeakers from a stage set up in front of the Hôtel de Ville. "It is the responsibility of ours and later generations to ensure that the world we have sacrificed so much for remains as it is now! We cannot allow the cycle to rotate back to the beginning again. Our nation is only as good as the people we elect to preside over it. If our government is no longer upholding the peace cherished so much by all of here today, then it is our first duty as citizens of the ESUN to make it right again!"

Her words were met with a chorus of cheers and applause. Her purpose in life was more than evident here, always a shining beacon of hope for the people and one who would not go away so easily. It was certainly comforting to know that Darlian has found a place in our world where she felt she needed to be, even if it meant putting herself on the line for the sake of others. Having once been an ally of hers, I was fortunate to be able to have a personal chat with her after the demonstration's main event.

"What motivated you to take such a stand again?" I asked her, catching her just to the side of the main throng of protesters. I found it a real nod to her character that, when not giving a public address, Darlian took her place among her followers as a fellow citizen of the ESUN.

"You should probably understand it better than anyone else, Wufei," she replied with a sunny cheer that definitely offset the gloomy skies overhead. "I could ask you why you left the Preventers to take up a career in journalism."

Certainly the turn of phrase one would expect from a skilled diplomat. With a divisional tactic of my own, I proceeded to ask her for her to expand on her position about the legislation being passed by the government today.

"I find that the bills being passed benefit only a select group of elite citizens and they are only setting the scene for a new kind of division among the people," Darlian said, her expression becoming grim. "The common citizen and the greater good are not being considered. If no one with any decision-making power is going to stand up for the rights of the people, then it's something we'll have to do ourselves, just as we've done in the past."

She proceeded to mark a few examples of such delegations, such as the troubles war veterans were having claiming benefits for their service and the careless expenditure of the national budget. "I maintain faith that at least there isn't anything fraudulent going on behind closed doors," Darlian insisted, a hand resting gingerly over her chest. "I can only hope that our new leaders will be receptive to the urges of the people they are writing laws for."

In response to my question about the importance of communication between government and citizen, Darlian was firm. "A government that does not take on the responsibility of caring for its people when they are in need is nothing less than a dictatorship in my eyes. The best government is the sort that teaches us to govern ourselves."

In conclusion, I asked, "Do you think you're upholding the ideals of Heero Yuy with your actions today?"

She hesitated for a moment before requesting that I clarify which Heero Yuy I was referring to. Then she shook her head and answered anyway, regardless of my intention. "I think both of them would be a part of this crowd if they could be with us right now."

She then took her leave to stand behind the large banner being held at the forefront of the crowd, her hands fisted around the ends of the cloth with determination. The ends Darlian and her followers are doggedly working for are clear, and her persisted fight for her beliefs proved that, even in this day and age, there is still an acute need for soldiers of peace.

\- -

Entry dated 04 / 01 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

It's been a long time since I last came to Earth, but I wasn't stupid about knowing how to take care of myself down here. It really wasn't all that different from being up there, except for here, the air wasn't fake, and the plants weren't dying from lack of real sunlight.

I knew Relena was based in Brussels, but the cheapest flight I could find off L2 to Earth landed me in the middle of bumfuck America -- Chicago to be exact. I'd never been there before, and admittedly, when I left the spaceport, I found myself just standing on the curb like an idiot tourist who'd never seen a goddamn city before, just trying to figure out where the fuck I ought to go. I didn't have the dough to get me from Chicago to Europe just yet, so I had to hang for a bit, anyway. Figured I might as well go and try and make myself as much at home as I could, since God knew when I was gonna have enough to get me where I wanted to go.

I figured it would be okay if I was a little bit looser with my change if I was going to be around for a bit. It was late and I was kind of hungry, so I went trolling for a place to eat. The area around the spaceport was a bit more on the residential side, which was a score as far as finding somewhere on the cheaper end of things went. I ended up on the far barstool of some hole in the wall pub with a big fucking cheeseburger and a pint glass that seemed incapable of ever being empty. After living with Hilde and her goddamn diet foods for what seemed like forever, a real piece of goddamn meat and a beer was just what the doctor ordered.

The bartender was a bit too nosy for my liking though. Maybe that's why he kept making a point to refill my glass or something. I think he was staring at my hair. I fucking hate it when people do that. It's not like it's dyed goddamn green or something, for chrissakes. When he finally made a comment about me being new in town, I told him to take a fucking hike. Then I paid for my food and skated on the tip. I was starting to take on a massive headache and I didn't need him egging the stupid thing on.

The sun had gone down by the time I left the bar, but I think I was too drunk to make out the exact time on my watch. I think I forgot where I was, too, because I kept wandering around trying to find Iscariot Street, which was the name of the dump alleyway where me and Solo used to hang out back in the day. So I kept wandering aimlessly around the neighbourhood, swearing at street signs I didn't recognize and drunkenly asking the occasional passerby if they could point me in the right direction. I got offended when they'd look at me and sneer. Didn't understand why everyone in the goddamn world seemed so hellbent on making my life harder than it needed to be. Heero wouldn't have done that, three sheets to the wind or otherwise. At least, not to me, I like to think.

I guess I eventually stumbled around the right corner, because I finally came across some potheads who were at least willing to be more helpful than the other jackasses I'd been trying to suck up to for the past two and a half hours. I'm not sure if it should have meant anything that they made more sense to me than most everyone else, even though they were definitely high as shit. I know I pressed them about Iscariot and much to the relief of my mounting annoyance with the fruitless quest, they said they knew it. Said that's where they were going and that I should follow -- said there were a lot of people planning to hook up there and it would be a good time. So I went with them.

They took me down all sorts of alien-looking streets, which my inebriated brain justified as acceptably strange because of how long it had been since I'd last gone seeking the place out. I did start to get a little annoyed with their haphazard wandering and the way they stank like they'd been passing joints all fucking day, and I would have ditched if they didn't keep insisting they knew the way. I don't know why I trusted them. I guess it's because I didn't have anyone else to.

Eventually, nestled in the middle of some rundown apartment buildings, we came to this scraggly patch of grass, enclosed by a rusty old fence that maybe was someone's backyard or a little churchyard once. It was a weird spot -- kinda looked like it was paved with all this random junk lying all over the place. You know, old sofas with the springs popping out, deflated basketballs and crunched soda cans and shit all making it hard for all that crabgrass to grow properly. There was a dried up, half-crumbled fountain in the middle with a statue so beaten up by the weather, God knew what it was supposed to be. Surprisingly, the potheads hadn't been too fucked up that they'd made up the little gathering they said would be there -- probably a bunch of bums all planning to spend the night using together. My two escorts were quick to forget me when they caught up with their other pals and it left me feeling out of place again. I didn't really care at that point. The mega headache was still bothering me, anyway, so I staggered over towards the two mismatched gravestones hiding in the corner of the plot to keep them company instead.

I think I was dozing in and out because I couldn't tell you how long I sat there watching the junkies before the booze started to wear off. I jumped when the first few sober thoughts entered my brain because I'd forgotten where I was all over again and was a little shocked to realize I wasn't back at Iscariot after all. That freaked me out a little. I idly started scratching an itchy chunk of skin on my arm.

It took me a few moments, but I then realized the junkies were talking about me. They were calling me Pink, I guess because of my shirt, and it kind of pissed me off, though I wasn't really sure why. Probably just didn't like the idea that they were talking about me like I wasn't fucking sitting ten feet away. What the fuck did they know about me anyway? The itch on my arm got worse right along with the desire to knock them all onto their asses.

"Who brought him over here anyway?" I heard one of them speak up. I couldn't tell which one it was, though. I didn't really give a crap; the itch was a little bit more pressing. Spreading and driving me out of my mind, actually.

Then, suddenly, when I looked up again, there was a pair of pinstriped legs obstructing my view of the fountain. I glanced higher and found myself staring at the most godforsaken mug I'd ever fucking seen in my goddamn life. Craggy cheeks, stringy hair and red-ringed eyes -- the whole nine yards. "What're you goddamn staring at?" I asked the ugly sonuvabitch. I scrambled to my feet. Didn't like feeling small next to a fucker like him.

He puffed his chest and glared at me with that look that said he didn't like a stranger parading around on his turf. He snidely asked me what I was doing around there and I told him that it was none of his goddamn business, which he didn't like one single bit. He turned to give his cronies this look like I didn't know what the fuck I was getting into. I decided I didn't particularly care for it, so I broke his nose. That sure put the fucker in his spot.

The other guys were all staring at me with these stupid, fly-catching expressions on their faces -- kind of like they couldn't decide if they ought to be pissed or impressed by some random wandering in and punching the boss in the face. Didn't matter to me; asshole deserved it for making my headache about a million times worse than it already was. I wanted to beat the whole lot of them up until they hurt just as bad as I did. I didn't let the threat sit idly, either, giving my knuckles a nice crack while I told them what's what.

It was a completely Solo thing to do, and I knew it too. I just wasn't sure if it bothered me or not.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 04 / 02 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I got lucky with that stunt I pulled with the kids by the fountain. Maybe it's just knowing the value of a little street cred or something, but they stopped being so exclusive after I walloped their ringleader something fierce. They even let me tag along when they went running that night. We trashed a convenience store and then had fun doing up some graffiti on the side of some high school. I think I earned a few more points with them for my handiwork, too. "Never seen nobody tag a wall like you, Pink," they said.

The ride ended when we tried to break into a little music shop and accidentally set off an alarm or something. The sirens sent us all scattering in about a hundred different directions and I got split up from the rest of them. The second I bolted, I just kept running until I couldn't run anymore -- until everybody was gone. Then I was all by myself again.

I was out of breath and super jittery, but I kept walking. I had that strung out feeling again, like I was somewhere between fucked up and okay, but I couldn't decide. It was like there was someone in my head who was keeping me on the line and it wasn't me. I remember bringing that damn headache back by bashing the side of my head with the heel of my hand like I was trying to shake whoever it was out my ear or something. I just ended up having to sit the hell down.

There was a lot of white noise filling my ears, and for a few seconds, I thought I could hear a voice in my head. But it was just me and my shadow there -- no one else for miles and miles -- and it depressed me to think it was the only real companion that had been with me through it all. If I'd been my shadow, I'd have run the fuck away from me a long time ago. I kept expecting to close my eyes and then find it had taken off every time I blinked.

I patted the sidewalk my shadow had darkened beside me, silently thanking it for its loyalty. In an effort to cheer me up, it did its best to impersonate Heero, and for a moment, I actually thought he'd come by to lend me his shape.

Then I remembered how much I missed him.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 04 / 04 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I eventually navigated my way back to the place I now thought of as Iscariot to find my duffel bag again but found it had been completely looted by the time I got there. I wasn't surprised, really, but I was pissed off anyway. Especially because they took everything but Mellon Collie, which was lying facedown next to my tube of toothpaste -- the only other thing they didn't steal.

Still, I'm more or less stuck here until something better flies my way. I guess I took my job security up on L2 for granted, because landing some work in this fucking town has been like trying to squeeze water out of a goddamn rock. Did manage to find a little closet flat to squat in for a while, at least. Landlady lets me stay in exchange for doing maintenance on the joint -- and let me tell you, the stinking dump needs it. But hey, it's a roof over my head, a bed and, you know, your basic this and that. It's a goddamn palace compared to some of the shit I've put up with before. It had a little shit TV with those old bunny ear antennae so I could at least watch the news. And it was mine -- that was key.

At first, when I'd see some of the kids from that gang I'd run into on my first night, they'd always pretend like they didn't recognize me when I tried to approach them. I think their boss probably scared them into avoiding me after I fixed his face. I guess I don't blame him, really. I don't know why it bothered me, since I wasn't really running with them or nothing, but I let it get to me anyway.

So, instead of thinking too much about it, I took my frustrations out on another brick wall with some spray paint I jacked from the hardware store. I painted Us and Them. Painted it just for you, Heero. The other day, I passed by and saw some of those kids staring at it and they noticed me then, but I got the laugh when I chose to ignore them. They didn't understand what the fuck they were looking at, anyway.

I've kept tagging spots in this neighbourhood when stuff starts getting shitty and all. It's a good way to pretend like the world doesn't exist, covering all the bricks with those bright colours -- bold, just how I like it. I kind of liked the rush, doing something illicit that I knew was right, anyway -- you know, kind of like when we were five and a princess versus everybody else. I think I was starting to work up a little notoriety with it, too, but it started getting obnoxious when I had to start cracking down on all these goddamn phony copycats. But it was nice, for once, to feel like someone was at least paying attention. About fucking time, at any rate. Not that they really get it, though. At this point, I figure there's really only one person who would, and I'm pretty sure it's you.

I only wish I could get a decent night's sleep once in a while, but I get too twitchy to keep my eyes closed for too long and it's like there's a million alarm clocks going off in my skull. Maybe it's all the sugar I've been itching for lately. At this rate, I'm gonna fall off a ladder doing something lame like screwing in a bulb for Old Lady Waters. Maybe I'll do some more doodling; I want to tag the old brick warehouse a few blocks over before they knock it down.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 04 / 07 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I know they've been talking about me ever since I crash-landed around here, but even I have to admit I'm kind of wowed by what they've been saying. They still call me Pink and they still kind of keep me at arm's length, but they've been speculating -- trying to figure out what my deal is and all that kind of shit. Like what kind of guy would show up and graffiti the sort of shit I did all over the place? I mean, that charred up teddy bear of yours, and your field of yellow flowers -- you lying there in the middle of it all -- that shit wasn't typical, right? Especially not for wall art like mine, nevermind how the fuck I was swinging it. I mean, they seriously talk about my tags like I'm doing a public service or something, that's the thing. Not that I really blame them too much. I mean, it doesn't hurt anybody to talk or nothing. I mean, hey, at least it gets them asking questions. Important ones. You know, the ones people weren't asking as much as they should be.

Like the other day, the headlines had Relena's picture plastered all over the place with her latest push to regulate how much power the Preventers really ought to have in society. She was getting all this shit for being like a treehugger or something, but I still think she's the only body around trying to make a difference in the way shit works, you know? None of this, 'Well that's just the way it is' for a girl like her. So anyway, I went and reproduced the front page just how it was in all the papers real big on the side of some tenant house, but made it so like the whole goddamn thing was burning up except for the photo of her. And I swear to God, I heard more about the whole thing in regards to my tag than the goddamn propaganda pages.

I sometimes got to wondering what the hell I was even bothering for, though. I mean, I'm still not entirely sure this is all that better than it was back on L2. Maybe it was just another waste of time -- another dull moment to make up another dull day of my dull, dull life. I felt empty and stretched all the time, and much as I hated to admit it, I knew I was missing the blues bad. Am I just hanging on in some quiet desperation until I finally slip? Maybe I'm just offhand wasting time, while I wait to kick the can. Or maybe for something or someone -- for you! -- to come around and show me the way. Because otherwise, it's all just a lot of standing around in a line that's not even fucking going anywhere.

It's weird when I think about it too hard. Like, when I was a teenager, it was like I couldn't wait to fucking die. It was like you had this whole, long life in front of you that you'd never get to enjoy because if you weren't lucky back then, you were fucking dead. And now it's all out of the way, and I'm still here, and it seems like all I do anymore is chase after something I'm never gonna catch. Everyone else I know didn't seem to have any trouble scattering off in their own directions, and it just leaves me wondering why the fuck I got dusted. Did I miss the starting gun or what?

I just don't get it. Here I am trying so goddamn hard to be a part of the world -- to make a difference -- and I feel just about as real as a goddamn ghost.

I just don't want to be alone.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated Easter Sunday, AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

You know, when you bury your dead, you expect them to stay fucking put, you know? But then again, the past has a creepy way of catching up with you. Maybe because it never really goes away, even if you think it's all behind you. It's like having a time bomb ticking away in your shadows. I didn't expect to ever have to deal with any of that until it blew up in my fucking face.

I guess I just wasn't listening hard enough. This morning I was lying in, trying hard to ignore the goddamn church bell that was tolling at the world's most obnoxious hour. All I wanted to do was go back to the dream I'd been having while I was safe and asleep, but apparently God hates me enough that he has to boot my ass out of bed way before it's good and fucking ready. I could barely stand the fuck up.

It was like a thousand fucking degrees outside, too, which sucked because I was supposed to clean out the old lady's goddamn storm gutters. I ended up just spending most of the morning basking on the roof and letting the stupid sun go on and burn my bare chest to its greedy heart's content. Couldn't focus on the job right, anyway. I think I must've fallen asleep up there or something, because I remember one minute I was lying there and thinking about how the circling sky reminded me of Heero and it was wonderful and quiet, and then the next, there's suddenly all this fucking commotion down on the street. I kinda crept over to the edge of the roof and look down to see what the hell is going on before I decided to get involved. This was the sort of neighborhood where you take care of your own muck, and if you didn't have anything to do with it, you stay the fuck out for the sake of everybody involved.

So there was this pickup truck parked nearby one of the first tags I did and these two guys in white jumpsuits standing there with paint buckets and stuff. One of them was yelling at this crowd who didn't look too fucking happy to see those painters there. They were all demanding to know who the fuck paid for them to be there and shouting shit like, "You stay the fuck away from Pink's wall." I had no idea they'd go to the mats like that for that shit. I still felt like I was struggling to fit in around here.

Guess I wasn't the only one who noticed shit going down. Two more guys jumped out of the truck and some passersby were slowing down to see what the hell was going on. It was like watching a bunch of big thunderheads come rolling in over the sky and just waiting for them pop on you. Me...? I felt conflicted.

I dunno who threw the first punch, but when they started rioting, I felt this twinge inside like I ought to be down there in the middle of it -- that other voice in my head urging me to go and fight my own goddamn fights. Or maybe I was just so sick of feeling so fucking helpless and frustrated and angry and all I wanted to do was make someone fucking bleed for it.

Before I knew it, I was down there and diving into that mob scene like a moth to the proverbial flame. By this point, there were probably about nine brothers on this little paint crew. Some other shitheads had shown up and jumped in there just to be part of the mess, which more or less evened out the brawl, but that didn't stop me from cutting loose. I grabbed, kicked and punched anything I could get my goddamn hands on. When someone tried to pull my hair, I instinctively grabbed his hand and bent his fingers back until they cracked. And it was the most satisfying fucking sound I'd ever heard.

The second time I felt someone go for the braid, I was like a goddamn madman. I whirled around, grabbed the bastard by the collar and reeled back my fist, ready to smash it into his jaw until I got a good look at his face. That wavy blond hair, that Cheshire-cat grin -- Solo. I dropped him like a sack of fucking potatoes. Well, I'd be goddamned.

He vanished into back into the fray, and for a second, I thought maybe I'd only imagined he'd come back for a moment or something. But not even I believed that load of crap for all too long, and I went diving in after him. The fighting was kind of dying down -- everyone was getting tired or too beat up to even know who the fuck they were supposed to hit anymore. I pushed through the bodies until I caught sight of that fucking blonde head of his. Just reached out and grabbed his shirt -- dragged the fucker to the street, fist up again and ready to pummel my way to some fucking answers. "When you fucking die, you fucking stay that way, you bastard!" I shouted down at him.

I suddenly felt something tightening around my wrist and someone behind me shouting, "Pink, Pink! What are you doing?"

I glared over my shoulder to get a look at whoever the fuck was getting in the way of my business and found myself staring at a guy I vaguely recognized from the Iscariot gang. I told him to stay the fuck out of my way, but he just gave my arm a yank and twisted it back. He started going on about some fucker I didn't know and I snapped at him to tell me what the fuck should I care about it.

He told me to take a goddamn look at what I was doing, so I did. And then I was mortified to realize that the asshole I had by the throat wasn't Solo at all, but some other blonde from the Iscariot gang. Even fucking worse was how everyone had stopped beating the shit out of each other and was now kinda circled around us like we were a fucking circus act. I slowly released him with a mumbled apology. The other guy let me the fuck go when I did, and I stumbled away from them, scared I'd just royally fucked myself over even more. I could feel them all fucking staring at me and it burned. I fucking hated it. I wanted to run away, to disappear. I tried to slowly back the fuck out of the circle, but there wasn't anywhere to go.

Then I heard someone shout out, "What the fuck is your problem, Pink?"

My temper lit up like a fucking match in a gasoline tank. I wanted to yell at them, let them all know how they weren't any better than anyone else in the goddamn world, and then get back to the fist throwing. "What the fuck is yours?" I snapped back, not at all about to step down. "You assholes don't even know what the fuck you're fighting for." I gestured to the tag that had started the whole fucking thing and finished bitterly: "To you idiots, it's just something that looks good. It doesn't mean shit to you -- not like it does to me!"

"Oh yeah?" some other jackass shouted back from somewhere in the crowd -- I don't know where. "Then why don't you fucking explain it to us?" There was a low murmur of all these assholes muttering some word of agreement -- just stupid sheep, I say, just being run through the meat grinder. The whole fucking lot of them!

I was about to open my mouth and let them all have it too, consequences be damned, until a sharp hiss in my ear nearly scared me shitless. "Tell them what they want to hear, D," I heard an all too familiar voice advise in a low whisper, just when I was beginning to think I'd made it up it after all.

I sucked in a deep breath first, not sure which problem I should deal with first: Solo or all these poor, ignorant fucktards. Both seemed pretty damn immediate to me, anyway. I think the potential panic attack from the way all those goddamn people were still staring at me was what ended up making the decision for me, though. "Fine," I snarled to no one in particular. Then I raised my voice real fucking loud and told them about it -- about the tag and what it meant. "For two fucking years, I smeared my fucking blood into the cracks of a shattered world, and for what? Fucking shit," I said, just letting it all come out like I'd dug my beating heart right out of my chest for all of them to see. "You're lucky that after all that goddamn fighting, you can still feel it fucking spinning, because I sure as hell can't. I don't know what the fuck you people are going to do when it slows the fuck up again, because at the moment, it sure as hell seems like you don't even know the goddamn difference!"

I heard an exasperated sigh puff next to my ear before I was unexpectedly shoved aside. Well, that sure as hell was different, was all I could think as I watched him assert himself in front of the crowd like he was their goddamn patron saint or something. Goddamn Solo, for chrissakes, back from grave and off like a zip gun on parade. I needed to find me the blues or something like 'em if I was ever going to handle this new twist with any ounce of sanity to spare. If I weren't broke, I'd have hit the fucking pub.

Still, I had to hand it to the fucker. Old Solo always did have this certain way of talking like he was shoving a needle into your veins and pumping himself in. You just couldn't get rid of him or give him up once he got to you, I swear. I'd grown up dealing with it. Fuck, he did it to me, for chrissakes!

He called out the crowd with a lot of pointing and all these madman arm movements. "You guys might not realize it, but just because the wars are over don't mean the fighting's done with," he said assertively. "It's like you all got memories that got erased or burned or something! They got you trading in your history for that simulated life they sell you through the vid-screen! Got your eyes off the real killers, here!" One arm flew out, gesturing wildly to the Chicago streets they called home: "You think you got some kind of safe haven here, but you all gotta wake up and see that the frontline is everywhere! We're fucked up, but we're not the ones to blame!"

I stared at the old shitfuck while he was going at it, still just as floored by that amazing fucking charisma of his as I was back when I was a brat. I don't know how the fuck he did it or why the fuck I had trouble getting the hang of it. I used to think at one time that maybe I'd learned a thing or two from my experiences with stupid old Solo, but I guess not.

The whole fucking time, I stood next to him like one of those goddamn mannequins you see in the store windows, deaf, dumb and stupid as ever. And you know, after listening to that whole spiel of his and seeing the way those fuckers licked it up like goddamn honey, I remembered what it was about Solo that confused me for about half my fucking life. Let me tell you, if there was one fucking thing about Solo, it was how he could make you feel like you were fucking _going_ places without actually ever going anywhere at all.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 4/14/AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Solo followed me back to my flat, even though I kept insisting I didn't have any goddamn room in my life for him anymore. He kept saying some shit about how it didn't look that way to him from what he'd seen, which unnerved me a whole fucking lot, since that meant the creep had probably been lurking in the shadows without me even goddamn noticing. Said he saw a photo of my tags in some newspaper and knew right off they were mine -- that I was lighting a goddamn beacon or something and he came sailing in for it. I thought it was a load of crap, to be 100% honest.

And yet, there he was, all sprawled out on my sofa like he goddamn owned it and probably ruining the nice imprint my body had started molding into the cushions. It was just too fucking weird to look at him for too long. I mean, when I was a kid and he was like my big bro, I looked up to the fucker like nothing in the world could ever topple him. Back then, it was like he was the king of the forty thieves -- the resident leader of the lost and found -- and I was his number one guy. God, then, I'd been so goddamn proud to be that kid everyone's ma warned their precious fucking babies about, and now look at it.

Staring at him like this, though, I couldn't help but feel kind of disappointed -- let down, almost. I thought he'd grown up kind of unimpressively: his full height rose to about my jaw line, and was stout in a way that couldn't be excused for baby fat so much anymore. At the same time, I mean, he did still have that same angel face and those blond curls and all, even if he did kind of sport this punk rocker leather and tight jeans sort of thing. And also these really startling, purple eyes -- but I couldn't remember if they'd always been that way or if he'd just shoved in some contacts or something.

And he still hadn't told me why the fuck he was here. I mean, he had, but his piddling little excuse wasn't even half the kind of answer I wanted to hear -- not even remotely close! He seemed to have trouble understanding that this stunt of his was such a big fucking deal. I mean, the bastard actually seemed to think that I'd just up and accept him with open arms like it was the most normal fucking thing in the universe for shit like this to happen. And I wasn't about to let him think that I was just gonna roll the fuck over before he started telling me what the hell I wanted to hear.

So I said his name in this really no-shit tone, but it took me like four tries before he even kind of glanced my way, and by then, I was really fucking pissed off. "_Solo_," I intoned real seriously, "fucking listen to me, for God's fucking sake."

He stared at me sideways and then this sort of understanding look crossed his face, like he'd just remembered to tell me something. "No one calls me that anymore," he said, still lounging on my sofa with his muddy fucking boots crapping up the upholstery. "I'm Jimmy now."

I glared at him like he was fucking stupid. Well, I mean, it could have been true; Solo was the exact same as me, with no parents or anything to attach himself to. After all, fifteen years was a pretty long fucking time. I sure as hell knew I'd changed a lot since I saw him last, so who am I to say that he hadn't either? Maybe he'd figured out who the fuck he was in all that time -- I don't know. Anyway, I didn't want to make it my problem and I fucking told him so. I said, "Look, Solo was good enough when we were brats and it's good enough now." Said I wasn't changing what I call him because of some personal vogue of his -- that he was always Solo, and that I ain't through wearing it out just yet.

"Fine, whatever you say, Chief," he shrugged with much less of a fight than I'd expected. It just made me edgier, really.

"Just what the fuck are you playing me for? Your little lapdog or some shit? I'm not fucking ten anymore, you jackass. I learned to think for my goddamn self," I went on from my spot next to the couch. The uneven floorboards were jutting into my ass and it hurt like a bitch, even kicked up against the thing as I was. "You come blazing in here from way outside and embarrassed me in front of the whole goddamn neighborhood! Any street cred I maybe had is probably being laughed all up and down town, no thanks to you."

For the first time since he'd reappeared, I saw a little fluctuation in his attitude at that. Guess it was starting to sink in that any freeloading joyride he might have had in mind was going to fall through if he didn't change his battle plan anytime soon.

"Typical," he snorted in this way that really dug under my skin. He went on to accuse me of being narrow minded and without vision -- unable to see grandness even when it was paraded right the fuck in front of me.

I told him that I'd done my fair share of grand things for one lifetime, thanks so much.

"Then stop pretending like you've got all this big fucking stuff to say!" he shot back almost immediately, actually sitting up a little.

I was taken aback and stunned into a moment or two of stuttering like a goddamn retard. When I finally managed to gather my thoughts, Solo had this fucking cocksure look on his face like he'd already won or some shit. I glared at him with a dissatisfied expression Heero would have been proud of. "It's not always about a goddamn statement, you know," I said flatly, not wanting to give him even a bit of satisfaction.

He just shrugged and leaned back like it didn't make a damn difference to him, though. "Well, you know me," he said simply, fiddling with one of the studs on his fingerless leather gloves. He unsnapped it at the wrist and started pulling it off in this really obnoxiously casual manner that made me want to shove the damned thing down his fucking throat. While he was doing that, he said with this annoying fucking tone that matched his annoying fucking attitude: "So if it's not about that, then why else would you go around doing like you been?"

I rolled my eyes and made this gurgling sort of noise in the back of my throat like the answer was already obvious -- which I pretty much thought it was. Or, at least, should have been. I went and told him in as abbreviated a manner as I could, not really in the fucking mood to go into much detail with him. Not that he really would have cared much. Old Solo was never one to waste time on what he saw as a triviality.

Then the bastard did something I didn't expect at first. He started laughing. _Fucking laughing!_ He got this really kind of demonic glint in those weird fucking eyes of his as he twisted around and grinned at me in this really sly, sort of Cheshire way. "Man, I thought I'd taught you better than that, D," he said with the rattle of chains accenting his words. "It's not about finding your place -- it's about fucking taking it!" He jabbed the air in my direction, still with that disturbingly assertive charisma of his. It scared me that I had to work hard to even resist falling for it even a little. "You just keep that in mind next time you want to tell me I don't know my shit."

Then he went to roll over so his back was facing me and fell the fuck asleep. I guess I'm a little burned at being brushed off like that, but at least it leaves me a few moments to myself so I can figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do. I mean, I guess I might as well come to terms with the fact that even if I don't fucking want him here, he ain't pushing off anytime soon. That was sure as hell certain.

I'm breathing heavy, trying to calm down, but when the rage goes, all I got left is this melancholy. I could hear it in my ears and feel this restless emptiness that always overwhelmed me like I was beneath the pull of a thousand stars. Maybe they'd throw me up so high, I could just float away to wherever. Maybe to wherever you are, Heero. We'd meet on some nameless street and we'd keep walking down it, but together this time, and we could keep going until everything else was gone. We'd have no idea just where our bones would end up. Just to dust, I guess. But we'd be going faster than we ever thought we'd go -- faster than the speed of sound! -- and we'd never have to apologize for anything we ever thought we were ever again.

But the fucking afternoon sun was burning through the window and heating the urgency of the moment. Filled my ears with that damn, heavy sound again. I plummeted from my fantasy and crashed back to the floor of my flat with an astounding speed. It took me a few moments to reorient myself and figure out why the fuck I couldn't hear the sound of Hope anymore and just Solo's goddamn snoring instead. But it's plain to see there's no one else around.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Letter dated 04 / 20 / AC207  
From H.Y. to Chang W.

Wufei:

To my understanding, you have recently abandoned your post at the Preventers Department in lieu of reporting for the ESUN International Herald. I cannot imagine a better convenience, which is why I am writing to you today. I apologize in advance if I come off as abrupt or out of place, especially considering my lack of correspondence with any of you in the past seven years. I will not take offense if you harbor any ill attachment regarding that and should you wish to disregard this request, I will understand.

My specific reason for addressing this to you concerns a recent article the Herald ran, which is of particular interest to me. It was a column written by a Ms. Clarice Hunter in last Friday's world news section in regards to what seems to be a small, developing subculture in southern Chicago.

While I know that Relena's political forwardness of late has been spreading to a number of sub-factions across the ESUN, this Chicago-bred one is of particular interest to me. To be exact, I find the graffiti that seems to unify this group noteworthy. Perhaps you, yourself, have also noticed how striking -- and how familiar -- some of the imagery is. I am interested in pursuing this topic further.

If you could be so good as to put me in contact with either Ms. Hunter or her staff photographer, I would be much obliged to consider it a favour. I have included instructions for your reply on the reverse side of this page. Your discretion is expected.

Sincerely,  
H. Yuy

PS  
Please forward my congratulations to Trowa and Quatre. It is unlikely I will be able to make the ceremony, but I wish them the best.

\- -

Entry dated 05 / 07 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Much as I hate to admit it, if it hadn't been for Solo, I still might have been flopping around this place like a goddamn fish on the beach. I guess I shouldn't find it as fucking weird as I do that everyone around here's suddenly on Relena's bandwagon ever since Solo had given that first little spiel of his. I mean, part of me is thinking how these people are such a fucking pack of sheep, but then again, I guess it's alright if they're getting herded in the right direction. And if anybody's good at doing that -- herding, that is -- it's fucking Solo. Still not sure they really get it, though. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if Solo does.

Maybe all I have to blame is my own goddamn self. I mean, it's not like I really do anything to stop it. Maybe I don't want it to. Usually whenever anybody comes around asking about anything that even remotely has to do with Relena and her rallies, I just let Solo take all that mess over. Not that I don't care or something. I just think Solo's better at all that shit than me, and I can admit that. I guess.

Imagine a doorstep preacher or some fucker on a soapbox, and maybe that's about what we were, but at least we were really getting somewhere. I mean, we really had something to fucking say, you know? Nothing empty or fake or sleazy or was just fucking silent even though it fills the air with noises -- just a mad boy with a shit microphone and a goddamn fistful of steel!

Like, the other day, the big news was this statement the new Minister of Foreign Affairs made about Relena being a hypocrite because she stood so fiercely by us Gundam pilots -- Heero in particular, since they were out to make him into the poster boy for wartime terror. That was their favourite fucking low blow they liked to take at her, I'd noticed, and it pissed me the fuck off like you'd never believe. I was explaining it to Solo, and damn if Solo knew how to make it come off in a way that the rest of them would get. He was out there like a fucking rock star or some shit. And believe it or not, it actually doesn't piss me off being the behind the scenes guy, really; the familiarity was nice, even if it stank of some of the shittier spots in my godforsaken existence.

But for the first time in a long time, it finally felt like I was making a goddamn difference, and for once, there were people who actually gave a fuck. Maybe it's because I finally feel like I'm getting a little goddamn respect -- starting to feel like people don't just fucking _tolerate_ me because I happen to be standing right there. I mean, it's starting to really turn into this... this _thing_, though. You'd think nobody around here had anything else to fucking do with the way they just start flocking together the second Solo starts going. Kind of reminds me of when me and him were running with gangs of our own back up on old L2.

Though I think it was little shit that really stood out with this whole thing that really made it fucking clear. Like, you go to the hardware store, and instead of hearing the fucking hit list channel all the time, you hear the news. Or you head to the spot where the Iscariot guys hang out, and you hear them fighting about politics instead of who was going to win the goddamn pennant this year. Even seeing kids reading the national section of the paper instead of the stupid comics was like a pat on the back for me. Didn't feel like I was a fucking one-man army so much anymore. We were gonna help Relena's message get out, and shit if it didn't feel like it did back during the war years. It feels pretty fucking amazing, even if it's not quite the same as it used to be.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 05 / 15 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in another hand]

I know you ain't been feeling so hot lately, D, and since I see you scribbling in this fucking diary of yours all the fucking time, I figured doing the same thing would be the best way to get your attention for when you're up on your fucking feet again. I told the 'hood that you were too fucked up to come out and paint anything new, but they fucking miss ya, D. Ever since you had me telling them all about the Gundam pilots and all, they've been fucking drooling for more like mutts, but I need ya to fill in the blanks for me, man, 'cause I wasn't fucking there for all that and I don't know one fucking Heero Yuy from the next. Your story and all that shit. Not that they know that or anything, it don't feel. I mean, you got a few nosey jackasses who keep wanting to know where the fuck your source on all this info is, but I don't bet the general lot of them give a shit so long as they're getting the facts.

They're starting to really wake the fuck up, though. It's a different fucking world from when we were brats, anyway. Like, before all this, I bet half these fuckers wouldn't have given two shits about Relena Darlian, and now see how they've got a grip on the power they got. If your war stories got any impact, it's making it clear to those fuckers how everyday people are the ones who change the way our future rolls, not these fuckers in the suits. You got your own philosophy, and you got it all, man.

And while we're on it, I really owe you a hell of a lot, D. I wasn't doin' so hot there for a bit, but you brought me back and helped me a lot by letting me stay around. And I know this whole thing is really fucking important to you, so I'm gonna do my fucking best to make sure nothing gets dicked up. You can fucking trust me, just like you always did, that's for fucking sure. And I'm gonna try and help you too. I see the way you been shaking and all lately. You on something, bro? I got a guy who can hook you up.

\-- Solo

\- -

Letter dated 05 / 18 / AC207  
From C.H. to H.Y., c/o Chang W.

Sir,

My senior editor came to me with your request regarding the column I wrote on the Chicago graffiti cult. Since I'm not sure what exactly it is about this topic that intrigues you so, or why you might be interested, I took the liberty of compiling all my notes and research on the subject, which you will find enclosed in this envelope. Much of it is trivial information that didn't make it into the article, but perhaps you will find some of it useful for whatever your purposes may be.

The group seems to have grown substantially since we were actually in Chicago, but indications are that it started with the residents of one particular neighborhood, where a newly popular graffiti artist known simply as 'Pink' gained prominence. In addition to technical skill, perhaps what helped Pink stand out was his (and I attribute gender based on the popular opinion that Pink is a male) unique subject matter: unlike most of the previous graffiti in the area, Pink's work revolves almost solely around the toils of the war with OZ and the Mariemaia coup, as well as the various outcomes of each.

I am unsure if Pink, himself, is the person leading the recent peace rallies in this neighborhood, though if he is not, I would imagine the two are somehow connected. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to see this person in action, much less meet him.

Still, based on his subject matter, I would speculate that whoever Pink is, he had some sort of personal involvement with the war. I hesitate to align him with any one particular faction from that era, but judging from his focus on antiwar sentiments and the way his cult has spawned into a Relena Darlian sect, I would imagine he was not with OZ or the EA -- or at least not a ranking officer.

I would also venture to guess that he is an immigrated colonist, since many of his other works center around space and the view of earth from orbit. It causes me to wonder if he might have had some kind of involvement in Operation M, specifically. There are details in some of his murals, what seem to be very personal, mechanical knowledge of mobile suits, which might indicate this to be true. I offer this speculation in the event that the subject interests you.

Another point of interest you may wish to make note of is his seemingly personal relationship with some of the Gundam pilots -- the one known as 'Heero Yuy' in particular. Perhaps that is what's at the heart of his campaign to align himself with Darlian, as she has been the most prominent figure to speak out against the war criminal allegations he was charged with before he disappeared. Pink may even know his current whereabouts, if that is the case.

In the end, however, there was not enough concrete proof to support my speculations. I hope you have better luck with it than I did.

For your convenience, I have also included the contact sheet for all the photographs my partner took while we were in Chicago. I hope you will find it of use as well.

Regards,  
Clarice Hunter  
Staff Writer  
The ESUN International Herald

\- -

Entry dated 06 / 15 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Should have figured Solo would notice I was hurting bad without the blues. It was like this almost bittersweet migraine in my head, but it was getting to feel like a fucking toothache of the mind every goddamn day I let it go without doing something about it. It was fucking overwhelming, and I was starting to get a little fricking desperate after I figured out popping that shit from the drug store wasn't working anymore. So whatever Solo could find, I would fucking take.

Needles kind of freaked me out, but Solo insisted I wouldn't feel a thing, so I rolled with it. At first, I wasn't so sure: that first hit left me just short of being fucking dead on the floor, but it was just that one time. But then, after that, Solo showed me how to chase the dragon instead, and everything was alright. It drained the pressure from the swelling and kinda mellowed me the fuck out -- gave this sweet, comfortably numb thing that was just short of fucking bliss. Helped make all that other shit in my head go away -- nothing to stop me from imagining what it'd be like to have you lying there next to me, Heero. If it was good, I could actually delude myself into thinking you really were. Once, I even got off dreaming you were riding my hips, doll, and I have yet to fantasize something better.

Hilde would be completely fucking disgusted if she saw me now, but that wouldn't have been a fucking surprise. I know you'd look at it different, though. Wouldn't see me like the sick fuck Hilde would, I know that. You ain't like the boring norm with all the boring drills and boring chores that mean absolutely jack shit. You'd open your mind to it, I bet, and you'd see I ain't so bad. Bet if you asked Hilde if she was fucking happy, you'd just get a load of how fucking empty and bare her whole goddamn life's gotten to be. Me? I'm okay. I finally know what it feels like to be fucking free, and it rocks.

Even my art's gotten off the hook lately since I got back to taking care of myself, and the 'hood fucking sweats it hardcore. Doesn't feel like someone drove a fucking stake into the creative section of my brain anymore, anyway. And with Solo's help, I feel like I've tapped into this whole new shit and it's real fucking dope. You should come by and see some of my new shit, man. I think you'd like it best -- think you could really appreciate it for what it means. You always used to say you thought I should channel this kinda shit somehow, anyway.

But sometimes, if I think about it too hard and it's been a while, I get kind of depressed and then the hate eats me up again. I get really fucking frustrated when it feels like I'm still by my goddamn self, even with all these other fuckers around me all the time. There's only one thing that'll fill me up, though, and it's you -- the better half of me! Without you, I can't even tell if I'm fucking inside myself, if you know what I mean. Kinda just feels like I'm miles beside myself instead -- or behind or below or some shit like that. And then I remember that loneliness is not a phase.

Black is all I feel.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Article dated 06 / 19 / AC207  
Report by Chang W.  
For the 'ESUN International Herald'

HELSINKI, FINLAND -- Today marked another rally in the name of peace and freedom, organized by former Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs, Relena Darlian, though the demonstration did not proceed without incident. It would seem there are individuals who find Darlian's nonviolent words dangerous nonetheless.

Traveling to northern Europe, Darlian began what she refers to as her unification campaign. Though the nations of the world have joined together under the central banner of the ESUN, Darlian still feels there is a lot of work to be done to reach the idealized world she envisions. Ignoring accusations of being naive and inexperienced, Darlian trudges onward with her supporters following her every step of the way, even in the farthest, orbital reaches of the Nation.

"Despite the drastic changes in world politics since the end of the wars, the animosity still lingers," she said to open her address to those gathered in the city's largest public square. "Our borders may be gone, but our attitudes still separate us. In my opinion, it's as if nothing has changed, especially when those who govern us still seek to prey on those divisions for their own controlling purposes."

Her speech then segued into some of the most politically concise commentary Darlian has yet made. For the first time, she made a direct strike against those who have sought to detract from her image by labeling her as a hypocrite, drawing from her personal experiences during the two wars to illustrate her statements. "I resent the accusations that I am aiming to somehow play on the delicate balance between peace and war for my own personal gains. I would never jeopardize something so fragile," she declared passionately. "My staunch defense of the Gundam pilot Heero Yuy [commonly referred to as 01] goes beyond the personal. He should neither be held accountable for the deaths of the Alliance doves near the start of the war, nor should he be made the scapegoat for the hatred fuelled by OZ's war engine."

It was here that things became chaotic. As Darlian was about to continue with her address, a gunshot rang out from the depths of the crowd, its aim missing Darlian's head by scant millimeters. Pandemonium ensued soon after, quickly bringing an end to what was meant to be a peaceful gathering. Moments later, the lone gunman could be seen trying to scramble onto the platform where Darlian stood, but was quickly detained by security officers. As he was being dragged away by Preventer agents, he could be heard shouting, "Burn the red soldier! Bleed the freak!"

The individual was later identified as one Michael Barry, though the authorities have made no further statements about their investigation regarding him. Though clearly an overzealous extremist, it is likely that Barry is one of the many earthborn citizens who still regard the actions of the colonies during OZ's Regime as terrorism and do not feel the subsequent events of the wars absolve them from any wrongdoing. Barry's wartime political ties are unknown.

It is common knowledge that Darlian was friends with all five of the Gundam pilots, as well as being related to the two leading members of the colonial terrorist cell, White Fang. However, Darlian does not like to talk about those private relationships in a public forum, feeling that it's "irrelevant" to the matters at hand. She prefers to focus on the future, and whether those connections she shared in the past are to factor into that remains yet to be seen. "I try not to be mired by things I can't change," she said in a comment after the incident. "My brother and his wife, Lu, just had their first child, and I'm planning to attend the wedding ceremony for Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton. That's what's important to me now."

However, she did hesitate to elaborate on what that meant for herself. Perhaps that is another chapter in the saga of Darlian's life that has yet to be turned open -- one she's saving for a more peaceful day.

\- -

Entry dated 06 / 29 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I got some real buzz for the last tag I did after that fucker tried to shoot the princess. For God's fucking sake, it's not like there was any way I was about to sit back and let Relena martyr herself like that. I'd throw my own goddamn neck down on the chopping block first, if I could help it.

But to me, what that fucker did was kind of like that infamous 'shot heard 'round the world' thing. I mean, not that it wasn't serious before, but the second that idiot fired his fucking gun, things changed. And no matter who the hell you were, everybody fucking knew it too. If anything, it just proved Relena fucking right that all this peace the new suits keep trying to insist is so goddamn stable is really just a big, fucking pretense. I mean, come on: if Ms. Total Fucking Pacifism can fucking recognize that we still got eons to go on this shit, then that should be a goddamn clue, right?

But the good thing is that around here, it's turned into this 'What can we do?' sort of thing. All the fuckers in the 'hood are wanting to make sure they're heard -- to make sure it's clear that not everybody in the world is gonna sit their asses on top of their hands with this one. Solo's been good for getting them all together on it, too. Not sure what we're gonna do yet, but we're gonna do something and it's gonna be big -- so fucking big, Relena herself will know she's got the whole lot of us watching her back. I mean, if Heero ain't there to keep an eye out for her, then someone's got to, and it may as well be me. It's respect for her, and I owe it to him. The last thing I want is to go to bed thinking that he fucking gave it his all and it still wasn't fucking enough. But then again, sometimes I get the feeling nothing ever is.

Though you know what the worst part of the whole goddamn thing is? It's how like every goddamn paper but the Herald is running all these lies like, 'Oops, misprint!' The popular quote of the moment is to go on about how this wheedling little fuckshit, Barry, is the goddamn oppressed one! Are they fucking kidding me? It makes me want to stick my hand down all their throats until they puke up all their fucking lies. Maybe it's just something to do with the earthbound circulations -- they're all taking the side of this fucker because our precious little wannabe assassin claims Wing razed his house. It's got nothing to do with not understanding media buzz or public opinion or any of that crap. It's all bullshit.

Just thank God Wufei's the fucker in charge of the Herald is all I got to say. It's nice to know at least one of the media bigwigs has any sense of decency at all. Go on, call me biased -- I fucking dare somebody. I'll let Solo beat the shit out of anyone who does.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Letter drafted 07 / 01 / AC207  
From H.Y. to H.S.

Hilde,

I apologize for writing to you again, since you made it no secret in your last reply that my correspondence offended you very much. There's nothing anyone other than yourself can do to dictate how you feel about the situation, though I suppose I can't quite relate to your frustration in the same way. On the other hand, I was somewhat wounded to learn that you think so much of this is my fault. I can't exactly say you're wrong about it, and that's what stings the most, I think. It was never my intention to hurt you or Duo, and the accusation that I was the difference in your friendship is truly upsetting. No matter my relationship with Duo, it shouldn't affect the one he shares with you. Though I guess that's easy for me to say now.

I know you mentioned that you were trying to forget what happened between you two so you could just move on, but I refuse to believe you would abandon one of your best friends so easily, which is why I decided to ignore your request that I never contact you again. I just think you're too quick to shut out things that may not be exactly to your liking. It's not quite the way Relena used to view the world, but I think the same understanding that things are never perfect is the best thing to always keep in mind. Over the years, I've personally come to find that the more I see, the less I know. No longer pretending to be in control has given me more peace of mind than I'd have ever imagined.

You can ignore my two-cent advice if you'd prefer. It's not my place to tell you how to think or, as I mentioned before, how to feel. Still, I thought you would like to know that I seem to have found our wayward friend. I know that even after all this time, I could never forget him; I don't see how you could want to, either.

Regards,  
Heero Yuy

\- -

Entry dated 07 / 04 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in another hand]

D, I can't tell you how fucking excited I am. I mean, I hate to sound bad or some shit, but that crazy fuck with the gun is almost one of the best things that could've happened. We got the 'hood so fucking rallied around your princess, it's almost disgusting. But shit, I think we finally managed to convince them that there ain't no one else worth going to war for. We'll crawl into tomorrow or get dragged to the grave and _damn_, what an invigorating feeling! Is this what you felt back when you were old 02? I can fucking see why you get your rocks off to this shit. All hell can't stop us now!

Just keep an eye out. I been noticing this one out-of-place fucker hanging out on the fringes and I think you should keep a watch on him. He keeps goddamn eyeing me.

\-- Solo

PS  
Let's go out and get fucked up tonight.

\- -

Entry dated 07 / 07 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Relena said it best in the speech she made a few days ago, which me and Solo and a few other fuckers were watching down at the pub around the corner. Said that the problems we're facing today go way the hell beyond government and administration -- it's the whole goddamn system. I mean, these new jackass officials are just drawn to all this fucking power and privilege and not a lick to reform or the exchange of ideas or any of that shit. As far as I'm concerned, they're just a new replacement for the fucking EA that razed Maxwell Church to the goddamned ground. Like this, democracy ends up just being a fucking tool for choosing new goddamn set of autocratic leaders.

Anyway, me and Solo hadn't been drinking too much 'cause we'd been doing lines in the men's bathroom before these other fuckers showed up, but that didn't stop old Solo from taking the fuck over from there. He stood on the rungs of his barstool like he was on a goddamn pedestal and pointed at the TV and said real loud, "See, that's what the fuck I'm talking about! She wants us to goddamn stand up for ourselves, so what better place than here? What better time than now?"

And unsurprisingly, that got the wasted fuckers all riled up and they were talking and getting really fucking excited. Solo was, too. I only half paid attention, partly because I was still fucking trying to hear Relena's speech, but mostly because I was coming off my high and it made me feel like shit -- felt floaty, but in a bad way. They were throwing out all kinds of ideas -- any goddamn thing that came to mind, from doing something to get Relena to campaign here to kidnapping the new Ministry officials and executing them in a back alley. I was a little iffy on both, to be frank.

Solo eventually kind of ducked out and let them all debate about it, saying some shit about having done his part. The bar was mostly empty except for us, but that wasn't surprising since it was such a fucking dive. This shit joint had peeling paint and goddamn roaches crawling out of the holes that had been punched into the walls, but at least they had some halfway fucking decent brew that they were giving away just this side of free. Typical neon beer lights, too, and a pool table that probably came with the fuckers always cuing up on it every goddamn time I came here. But at least it gave the place a little fucking personality -- a little goddamn life -- even if it was really fucking dreary.

And then Solo muttered in this really low tone under his breath, "It's that fucker again." I wanted to know who he meant, and he went on real grouchy-like: "This asshole who's been watching the 'hood. Bet he's up to no good."

So I looked up to see what the hell Solo was glaring at and I nearly fell off my barstool. There, sitting at this little fucking table in the corner with a plate of onion rings and an untouched mug of beer, was you -- you with your dark, steely blue eyes and your shaggy brown hair that was just as damn tousled as it ever was.

There you were, sitting all by your goddamn self, staring right through Solo -- staring right at me.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Letter drafted 07 / 12 /AC207  
From H.Y. to H.S.

Hilde,

After following through on a few leads, I found that my hunch about Duo's whereabouts was right after all, and after seeing him, I think I owe you an apology. I had no idea [how deep his woun] he could ever fall apart so hopelessly. The Duo [I was fond of] I remember from the wars always had direction for himself -- always had this cocksure self-confidence I must admit I secretly envied and admired. And you tell me it's my fault -- and God, it is -- and all I can do is beat myself up over it. I would say you could hate me more than anyone, if you wanted -- if I didn't already hate myself more.

I know he's in a strange place, trying to figure a few things out and all that. I understand, as I've been there myself for the past seven years of exile. But from what I saw the few days I spent just lying low to get a feel for this new life of his, he doesn't seem to be gaining anything from the whole situation. A classic case of taking one step forward and five steps back, it would seem. It was enough to raise a few concerns with me -- enough to even admit to you that it frightens me a little. You can't imagine how skittish he seemed when I ran into him face-to-face for the first time. The second he realized who I was, he tore off like he'd seen a ghost, and I couldn't hope to catch up him once he got running. Almost like a bitten animal that had been caged for way too long -- nervous, darting eyes...[ How did I not reali] Was he like that before he even left?

I'm not sure what I should do next. It's not a position I'm used to being in, and it's frustrating as all hell. I know I probably don't have a right to ask for your help, but anything you could suggest would mean so much, and you're the only one I think I can go to about it. Don't even think of it as something for me, but for Duo, instead. Goddammit, he needs _someone_, Hilde! Who can he turn to if not his friends? [His] I just want to be there for him. To make up for the time we lost.

To show him I still care.

Most sincerely,  
Heero Yuy

\- -

Entry dated 07 / 14 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

You know, all this time, I'd been waiting for everybody to finally be ready to grab reality by the goddamn balls, but now that they had, I wondered where I was in my head -- how I could have been so far removed when it happened, I hardly even noticed? Or cared.

It's really goddamn unsettling, because before, I didn't think that there was a fucking thing that could have measured up with that need to make a difference. I thought that's what the gap was -- what was missing in my goddamn, pitiful existence. Now I'm thinking, maybe it was just a diversion from the heart of it -- something to keep me avoiding whatever I really ought to have been trying to find for myself.

Or maybe I just didn't know how to fucking deal when that something came out to find me, instead.

I have no idea where this revelation fucking came from, either. Nowhere, I guess -- just like he did. I mean, this morning, me and Solo went out to talk to some fuckers about this demonstration we all wanted to do, and that was pretty damn routine, except for this time, we were getting it on for real. Anybody who gave a shit was supposed to meet at the pub around noon, and a half hour later, we were all gonna march uptown to the business district and do one of those goddamn hippie sit-ins across from city hall. We were gonna go the whole fucking nine yards, too -- got the pickets and the war paint and some brother drumming on a bucket to get us all chanting in time. It was exactly what I'd been wanting the entire goddamn time -- from the second Relena lost her spot in the Ministry, something like this was what I thought was needed.

And at the end of it? I wasn't there. Hell, I didn't even fucking go. Didn't even try! And it wasn't because I just lost track of time or some stupid shit. I outright ignored the whole fucking thing, even as I heard them all shouting and carrying on right outside my fucking window! It just didn't feel like my own anymore, and I was at this point where I was thinking I'd probably be better off dead, anyway.

It just felt like no matter how much of myself I fucking gave, it didn't mean shit. And no matter what -- no matter who was fucking there -- I just didn't have anybody to cry to and nowhere to even call home. I was starting to really see that this was my own goddamn battle -- one I had to fight all on my fucking own.

Even if I had no idea what exactly I was fighting for anymore, anyway.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Headline dated 07 / 15 / AC207  
For the 'Chicago Daily Tribune'

Which One's Pink?

CHICAGO, IL. -- A faction of Chicago citizens marched on City Hall today and settled themselves in front of the federal building for the better part of the afternoon until police sought to break them up around 4PM, when none other than the wanted war criminal, Heero Yuy, AKA Gundam pilot 01, was spotted among the crowd's foremost ranks. Though the officers managed to prevent any mishaps by disbanding the rather large group, Yuy was not detained, somehow managing to slink away amid the scattering crowd.

It is uncertain if Yuy is the now infamous mastermind known as Pink, who is most likely the one behind this onslaught of hooligans, but regardless, his involvement in such a movement made their intentions clear. The group was mostly comprised of residents from a generally impoverished neighborhood towards the south side of the city and who have embraced Relena Darlian's questionably socialist ideals as their own doctrine. Considering that Darlian had a noteworthy friendship with Yuy, identifying him as Pink would not only make sense of the mysterious link between the protesters here and Darlian's mostly European-based movement, but would also bring a conclusion to the disputes over his role during the wars.

But Yuy's sudden reappearance on the scene makes for some confusion, considering that he has been AWOL for so long. It is likely that he is using such shock-value to make his seriousness on his position evident -- a direct threat not to be taken idly -- or if he has some other, unseen motive. Perhaps it is a call to arms for his followers that remains to be seen. A reward is being offered by the Chicago Police Department for anyone willing to come forward with information regarding this the whereabouts of Heero Yuy. It is apparent that nothing less than the most intense investigation will soon be -- if not already -- underway.

_Continued on page A-11; see YUY_

\- -

Entry dated 07 / 18 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I always knew Heero was a goddamn idiot. He always was fucking like this... being so goddamn careful and meticulous in every way until some ridiculous impulse overtook him and he went and did something so goddamn stupid! What the fuck was he thinking, following all those idiots on that goddamn rally? Did he think just showing the fuck up like that would actually do any goddamn good for anybody? I mean, unless he just really likes getting royally fucked up the ass, anyway.

I couldn't confront him on it right away, though. I guess he was still trying to get an exact pinpoint on where I was, since the word on the street's that he was pushing his way through the crowd looking for my sorry ass. Not sure if it's good or bad that none of the local papers thought to add that particular detail to all their stupid ass reports on the whole goddamn fiasco. But everybody's always got to have someone to hate, right? Heero fucking _knows_ he's the scapegoat of the hour, and he still went out there like a fucking moron. For the hundred-millionth time: what the _fuck_? I just don't fucking get it. Why the fuck is he here? Why now? Why me? The whole thing smacks like disaster, I'll tell ya. It scares the goddamn shit out of me, really.

So I figured it would be better for me to find him before the wrong person did and _really_ fucked shit up. I mean, I know Heero was a big boy -- knew how to get the job done and all that -- but he stood out like a fucking green Martian on Easter. And if anyone knew how easily this fucking neighborhood gelled to strangers, it was me. For the record, no, I don't think they were going to help him out all too much either.

Around midnight found me out on the beat, drumming up any Iscariot guys I could find for a tip-off. Dunno what it was about that particular lot -- kind of felt they were a cut above the rest of the jackasses around here, I guess, or I just found them somehow more trustworthy for whatever reason. Maybe it was a gang instinct thing, even if they weren't really my own or any shit like that.

Most of them had seen Heero around, but they couldn't tell me more than that. Said he didn't matter -- was just some confused soldier who wandered in and would eventually wander out, and it took me about two goddamn hours before I actually got anywhere with anybody. Was around this old community church everyone just called Saint's, where you could always count on the neighborhood hawks to have plenty of dope and plenty of info -- for a price anyway, the cheap fucking bastards. I suppose I was lucky that Solo had me an in with these fuckers.

I didn't say why I was looking for him or nothin' -- didn't hint I knew who he was, neither -- but I let them know it would be worth their while if they cooperated. Pulled out the big guns and snapped out the last of my emergency stash to sweeten the pot. Did the trick, and they said they sometimes saw him hanging around this seedy motel on the outskirts of the area. Not that there was really much more to stay in, but the thought of Heero staying in a shit hole like that didn't sit too fucking well with me. I ran all the way over there. Maybe I just had some fucking delusion that it was up to me to save him after he'd gotten shit for saving everybody else. Or maybe I just couldn't admit I only really wanted to see him -- to be together and talk with him again... to maybe hold him like I did in my imagination.

So I went inside and came up to the chick sitting behind the desk to ask about Heero. Wasn't sure if he was using some alias or something, so I just kind of described him to the bitch, but the whole time, she kept looking at me with this twitchy eye like I was fucking insane.

"There ain't nobody like that staying here," she said. She was smacking this big, fucking wad of gum between her lips real loud. If there's one thing I can't fucking stand, it's bitches who smack their goddamn gum.

I told her to stop bullshitting me and was actually just short of pulling the 'Do you know who I fucking am?' card on her ass, just like Solo would've done. "I heard it true my boy was here, bitch. I don't like it when people dick around with me," I growled, all the while tearing into my goddamn wrists with my fingernails. I needed to hurry this fucking errand up fast.

But the ho kept insisting no one like Heero was staying there, even when I started dropping like every goddamn name I could think of that Heero had every used -- or even _thought_ of using -- as a cover. I got fed up and figured that the hawks by Saint's had given me some fucked up info, which pissed me the hell off, and I started thinking of nine hundred million ways I could skin those fuckers alive and what I could use their ugly, bleeding skins for. Guess I'd gotten too hopped up to really notice what the hell was going on, because before I knew it, some big fucker the bitch had called out of nowhere had shown up and was trying to start some shit with me and his big, stupid fists.

Anybody who knows me well knows not to fuck with me in a fight, but Jesus Christ, I must have been distracted as all hell or some shit, because I was having the hardest fucking time keeping up with this jackass. He eventually hauled me off and tossed me out some side door into this dark, stinking courtyard behind the motel. I landed on my goddamn nose and busted my fucking lip, but I was too pissed off to care. Not only was I still without Heero, but this spot had to be one of the most piss-stinking places I'd ever been in my life. Just when I thought that goddamn motel was the pits, too. I got dog shit all over my boots, too. And they still fucking stink.

I figured I was done for the night and hauled myself up onto my goddamn feet, schlepping out to the side alley with those same violent thoughts about those fucking hawks repeating in my head. A nice fantasy about cutting out a few vital organs while they were still alive to watch it entertained me for the time being.

As I was heading down the pitch fucking black alleyway, I heard a soft noise that made stand still. Sounded like someone was saying my name or some shit. At first, I figured I was probably just paranoid and making shit up in my head, but then I kept hearing it and I figured maybe I wasn't so crazy. I stopped to look around and I nearly choked when I realized just what in the hell I was looking at.

Heero.

Guess I wouldn't have to slaughter the hawks after all.

It was a kind of muggy night, but he was still huddled up with this piece of shit duffel bag like it was the only possession he had left in the goddamn world to guard. His clothes looked like they'd seen better days, and his face and hair were dirtier than I'd ever seen before. I couldn't tell if he was actually sleeping or not, but knowing him, he was capable of anything if you crept up on him when he wasn't goddamn expecting you to, so I made sure I was real careful. I wondered what he was doing out here instead of _inside_ the motel. Place might have been crappy, but at least it had a roof, running water and beds.

I stooped down next to him and made sure he could see me before I tried to touch him, though I was pretty surprised I was able to get my hand onto his shoulder without it being twisted off first. I took a good, long look while I could -- best goddamn view I'd had in a fucking long time! Didn't look unhealthy or malnourished or anything, but God, I could sure as fuck tell he'd seen better days.

About a bajillion questions were floating through my head, but none of them seemed to mean a goddamn thing to me, despite my stupid fuck urge to blurt out most of them right away. I knew him well enough to know he don't do shit for nothing, but still, this ain't even close to what I'd been expecting. Though maybe more importantly than why he was sleeping on the streets or why he was even goddamn here at all, was figuring out if he was okay. I was starting to make myself a little delirious when I'd shake him and he'd only kind of mumble at me. Not even I was dumb enough to think that even after so many years, Heero fucking Yuy would become such a sound sleeper that some fucker all up in his space wouldn't wake him the fuck up right away. Not if he were in top form, anyway.

But he kept mumbling my name! That was what was confusing the holy hell out of me. I eventually figured this was shit I'd have to figure out somewhere other than this crap hole. Somehow, I managed to shoulder the bag and get him onto my back in one of those fireman's carry things, all the while still freaking out internally about how goddamn surreal the whole fucking thing was. Maybe he'd gotten hurt or maybe I'd been too late and the wrong set of eyes had noticed his ass -- I don't know. It was really fucking hard, but I tried not to think about it too much on the way back here. I can't say I exactly did a stellar job at that, but listening to the sound of his breathing in my ear was a weirdly reassuring thing when I started to get too fucking carried away with making up all these crazy fucking scenarios that might have gone down.

I dumped his shit by the door when I got back and immediately made for the bedroom to lay his ass down. Heero wasn't some kind of giant fat fuck, that's for sure, but he wasn't any goddamn string bean either. God, and am I a bad person for thinking about all the other ways I'd always imagined bedding his pretty ass while he was just short of unconscious there? Maybe at least just some pervy lecher, anyway, but how could I help it when even just _daydreaming_ about his face was enough to make me hard? God, and it was even worse actually _looking_ at him in the flesh, which had me thanking heaven he was sleeping. I didn't even want to think about what touching would do, so I kept reminding myself that only a sick fuck would take advantage of someone in Heero's current state.

Of course, no sooner had I gotten Heero settled on the bed, did Solo decide to pop in to see what the fuck was up. He kept giving Heero these long, appraising looks that made me really fucking uncomfortable on Heero's behalf, and maybe even a little bit on mine, too. The fucker didn't waste any time voicing his thoughts, either. He was just short of licking his lips as he said, "God, D, he looks completely fuckable, don't he? D'ya know if he likes cock?"

If it wouldn't have made me a hypocrite to punch him in the face for what he said, I would have done it in a goddamn second. Much as I hated to admit it, my mind was pretty much washed down the same stinking gutter, so I pretended like I wasn't listening to anything Solo was saying, even if every word was going right to my goddamn dick.

But you know, enough was enough, too. I know I shouldn't have expected much more out of a fucker like Solo, but I couldn't stand listening to him talk about Heero like he was some whore I'd picked up for a fast one. Still, I was amazed how quick Solo let it drop when I told him to shut the fuck up. I probably should have taken the time to be a little suspicious of a move like that, but the fucker had already moved on to talking about getting together some junk to drop A-bombs, and I was too fucking strung out to think twice about it before jumping on the fucking bandwagon.

Anyway, I hope Solo won't take too much objection when he figures out Heero's gonna be around for a while. I'm pretty sure he doesn't care for him after showing up out of the clear blue fucking sky, despite the way he'd been talking. Solo's not too big on competition he can't crush. He can be pretty goddamn domineering. Really, I think what I hated most about him was how much I really couldn't hate him at all, even if I really wanted to.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 07 / 19 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in a different hand]

I love how raw you are when you're trippin', D -- outright wild! I bet the whole 'hood heard the great gig in the sky when you leaned out the window and screamed like that. Let them all know you're not afraid to die. And why should you be, anyway? There's no reason for it: I mean, we all go to go sometime, right? It's fucking beautiful.

\-- Solo

\- -

Letter drafted 07 / 22 / AC207  
From H.Y. to H.S.

Hilde,

I'm not sure if Duo knows that I've been keeping you informed about his current whereabouts, and I'm not exactly sure it's something I ought to reveal just yet, so I apologize in advance if I sound abrupt.

I suppose that introduction deserves a little bit of explanation, though. Yes, I'm with Duo; I've been staying with him for the past few days. I'm not exactly sure the details, but he said he'd found me out in the neighborhood and had brought me back to his apartment out of concern. [I was tempted to] I'm sure it's no secret to you what my current situation is, and I'd been afraid to check into any kind of housing in case someone gets a little too wary of my presence. Besides, it's not like I'm unused to living on the streets. Once an orphan, always an orphan, I guess; it's nothing new.

Then again, maybe I'd gotten lucky that Duo found me when he did. I think this place is starting to get to me, though I'm not quite sure why. It must be something in the air or the water. It's like you can smell the despair everywhere you go, and you can't help but let it consume you. I know that's a poor excuse, really. Maybe it's just a way for me to express my growing frustration with the way things are [between Du]. I know I'm one for screwing things up -- I can freely admit that -- but I did always like to think I could take care of a job that needed to be done. Maybe I've lost my touch... I'm not sure. But I feel very incapable. It's like I'm reaching and reaching but only grasping at shadows.

Though if we're speaking in terms of luck, then it was my turn to return such a favour to Duo when I finally woke up. It was the smoke that really did it, I think, but a better part of me knows that my subconscious could pick out that there was something wrong. God, Hilde, the way I found him was possibly more horrifying than anything I'd experienced during the wars. I always knew he had the sort of addictive personality that made it easy for him to throw himself headfirst into anything with fervor and passion, but I thought I felt myself die a little inside when I realized that this was what the cocky, unconquerable Duo Maxwell had been consumed by.

He was passed out by the bed I woke up in, spread out on the floor and breathing very slowly and very erratically, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what was wrong. He wasn't really unconscious or anything, but he was definitely not himself. Or rather, he wasn't _in control_ of himself, anyway. Tried asking him his name, where he was -- what colour my eyes were. All he said was, "Any colour you like -- as long as it's black."

It would be no exaggeration to say I panicked. I didn't know! I seriously thought he was dead at first, really. "Speak to me -- _breathe_, Duo!" I kept saying. "Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me!" There are no words to quite describe the overwhelming sense of relief I felt when I realized he wasn't _dead_, but that didn't stop me from worrying and taking all the right precautions. This had to stop -- for both him and for me. I don't know if I could live knowing he was doing this to himself.

How could he have so much hate, [even for the ones he lo-] He realizes how much he matters, doesn't he? Does he even realize how much it hurts to see him like this? The pain is worse than every bullet I've ever had lodged in my flesh -- even the two _he_ fired. There's something that's wounded him, spreading like a poison inside. God knows how long it's been there and what sort of damage it's done. It's like he's trying to get up on the highest wave so that when he loses his balance, he'll fall headfirst into an early grave.

For the past years, I can't tell you how empty my life has been, but even the mere thought of having to continue in a world where there was no more Duo Maxwell is hardly bearable. I guess I'd always been able to carry on thinking that he was doing alright for himself, even if his life was no longer to be a part of mine. I can't believe I deluded myself for so long with such foolishness, but I was young and life is long, and it seemed like there was only time to kill every day.

And then one day, like there were a thousand alarm clocks that suddenly went off all around me, I woke up to find that all these years had gone behind, and I was never getting them back -- that every year was getting shorter and soon, I wouldn't have the time to live anymore. It was just suddenly so clear to me that I was just ticking away the moments that made up every dull day of my life and it had to stop. I mean, every day, you wake up the same in a relative way, but you're older and one day closer to death, you know?

I'd let him slip away -- let him slip away the same way I was letting my life tumble right through my fingers. It was like I'd taken my entire existence and just dropped it into some dark pit to be forgotten before locking myself away. I'd fought so long and hard for the right to live -- to be happy! -- and there I was, unable to do even that. Maybe it's all stupid pride, or maybe some kind of cowardice, but I had to unearth and retrieve it, even if it meant stepping back out into the harsh light. Because all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.

I'm not even sure how to properly express how I feel anymore, though I must thank you for your continued correspondence. It has been an unmatched outlet for this seemingly constant outpouring of despondence. But the time is gone, and my words have ended. I thought I'd something more to say.

\-- Heero Yuy

\- -

Article dated 07 / 24 / AC207  
Report by Chang W.  
For the 'ESUN International Herald'

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND -- Despite those who have sought to rally against her, Relena Darlian and her supporters still stand strong with their message of world peace as she continues her unification tour of Europe. Since the attempt on her life and the startling Chicago rally conducted in her name, Darlian has made no indication that she means to back down, despite the growing disputes about her and her movement. Today, during a press conference held after her main appearance to the public this afternoon, she addressed a wide range of topics, from her recovery from the incident in Helsinki, to the continued plans for peace.

"The very essence of progress is change," she told the small gathering of reporters. "And change begins when we decide it will."

She was immediately met with a flourish of questions regarding the Chicago march on city hall, but she staunchly defended the actions of the controversial individual known as Pink. "To conventional society, which is usually mired in routine and accepting things as they are, people like this Pink are frightening. However, what happened in Chicago is akin to what happened in the space colonies so many years ago. Nothing stays the same; there will always be renegades."

It is clear Darlian is not afraid of the future and what it might hold. She has faith that people will take her message to heart as its momentum grows, though she is wary of those who seek to override the ideals the ESUN was founded upon. "I'm not saying anything different from the things I did during the wars," she asserted. "Pink and his people are proof that the future is ours to shape as we will, and no one has the right to withhold that from us. The fact that factions of Chicago-based Preventers -- an organization whose sole purpose is to represent peace in the ESUN -- were deployed to break up a non-violent rally is abhorrent, and is a perfect illustration of how quickly we've started to regress into the patterns that led to the wars in the first place. Only this time, I fear there will be no one to stand up to such a calamity as the Gundam pilots and the resistance did in the past."

The continued discussion about the Chicago incident and rebellion, without fail, segued into talk of Heero Yuy and his alleged presence at the rally. Darlian admitted that though she was pleased to see him there, she had not personally heard from him in years, thus leaving her unable to answer direct questions about what his reappearance meant.

"The Heero I knew during the wars always had a sense of where he was needed," was all she said. "Perhaps he felt his place was there at that rally, for Pink or otherwise. Something called him to that place, I know it, though I can't say that I ever understood Heero well enough to be able to tell you what that might be. Perhaps he has some kind of greater purpose, but then again, perhaps it's something that no one but he, himself, is meant to understand."

It certainly wasn't the kind of answer most of the reporters at the press conference wanted to hear. Darlian was rather succinct about the matter of Heero Yuy, and it is unsurprising that there has been much speculation regarding why that might be. In private, after the press conference, Darlian scoffs at such meaninglessness. "It's all just gossip," she said derisively, her tone indicating clearly how she felt about such things. "They're so desperate for a story, if there isn't one, they'll just make it up. That's half the problem these days."

And to the question about whether or not she thinks Pink is a detriment to her cause: "I believe that one word that brings peace is better than a thousand words that are hollow. If Pink knows this word, then who am I to silence him? After all, together we stand, divided we fall."

\- -

Entry dated 07 / 26 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in a different hand]

I don't like the way your friend is always hanging around, D. You've got to tell him to move the fuck on, because he's seriously cramping our style, in case you've been too fucking busy staring at his goddamn ass to notice. And don't think I'm dumb, neither, buddy; I see the way you fucking look at him. You gotta put the brakes on that shit, man; you're losing your grip on the game and it's gonna fuck us up. We've come along too damn far to trip at the goddamn finish.

What's this fucker's deal, anyway? I know I seen you beating off with that name of his all stuck in your throat, but come on. You let yourself get too goddamn distracted by one fucker who's got shit to do with you anymore, so just leave it alone. You know it's better for everybody that way! I'm right -- you know I am! And if, for whatever reason, you're fucking questioning it, just remember how I always fucking am.

I mean, where has _he_ been for the past how many years, anyway? Sure as hell not giving two shits about you, D, that's for goddamn sure. And here he is, just showing up and waltzing in here because he knows he can take advantage of you and this twisted little fantasy thing you got going for him. Don't have to be hanging out with forever to know _that_, anyway. You ever stop jerking off long enough to think why the fuck he's even here? How much do you really know about the fucker, seriously?

He don't really get it, anyway. He's just gonna go and dump all his problems right back on you, like that bitch you were hanging with for so long after the war. Goddamn, how long did it take you to split from _that_ shit, D? And here, you're gonna let this fucktard just do you the same way? What's the difference if it's him or her? They're all out to get you, D -- all out to use and abuse you and then leave you in the dirt when you're all broken up and no good anymore. She did it, and he'll do it too -- I can see it. He don't mean you well -- gonna upset everything it took you so goddamn long to win for yourself. Don't toss it on a whim for this fucker, man, I'm telling you. They don't care for you, D -- not the way I do.

\-- Solo.

\- -

Letter dated 08 / 01 / AC207  
From H.S. to H.Y.

Heero,

I must admit to you, I haven't been able to decide if your letters have been a relief or a burden. Maybe I never did have the kind of strength Duo needs, much as I liked to think otherwise. I thought I knew him so well, but I can see now that I really didn't have a clue, did I? I think I've at least come to accept that, now, anyway. Maybe there's some kind of innocence that's measured out in years -- I don't know.

I think I've managed to see beyond myself, though, and I've found a lot of peace of mind that way. I never wanted to accept it -- never wanted to accept what it might mean -- but I realize now that if anyone is going to be able to reach Duo, especially now, it's going to be you, Heero. Maybe it wasn't really a secret how I felt about Duo, but I never wanted to think that I was wasting my time on him -- couldn't stand the thought! I tried to pretend like the things that didn't fit just right didn't exist, and God, if I haven't destroyed so much with that kind of mentality.... I just wish I knew the best way to make it right again, you know? Don't want to carry these sins on my back anymore. I wish there was some way I could just... cleanse myself of my mistakes, but even I'm not so naive as to think anything is quite that simple.

But what could I do? You were _gone_ for so long, and he couldn't move on. I thought it would be better if he could just learn to accept the way things had changed, but there was no telling him that -- not that he would listen, anyway. He'd still talk about you and wonder about you and lament how unfairly life had dealt the cards. I guess it wasn't my place to tell him how to feel; it's not like I ever knew what he was like when he was with you -- or how you really were when you were alone with him. Or maybe I just didn't want to think about it -- didn't want to admit it to myself. But then again, we've already cleared up that I was living a fantasy.

And perhaps I run the risk of being a bit too forward by admitting this, but maybe it's something I ought to tell at least you, anyway. It's the only thing I can think of when it comes to this aching void that seems to have swallowed Duo whole.

It had been about a year or so after we'd started the scrap yard, and Duo seemed like he was really out to make a new beginning for himself. I wanted the same, but I suppose I never stopped to think that maybe what Duo wanted wasn't the same thing I did. I was after a family, to be frank about it, and I wanted that family to include Duo. I tried... so fucking hard to win him -- I really did -- but I could never understand why all my suggestions and advances always seemed to fall flat on their faces. In my rashness to make so many assumptions about Duo and his needs, I decided that he was just being thickheaded and stupid about it -- maybe a little shy. It didn't even remotely occur to me that maybe I wasn't the one he wanted. Not until I was venturing to his room one night, ironically in a madcap effort to try and seduce him, when I heard him moaning your name. Would you laugh to know that my first thought was that he was having some kind of nightmare? It wasn't until I cracked the door, just short of barging in on him, did I realize that his cause for crying out to you was hardly induced by fear.

I was assaulted by a hundred different emotions that night, each one stronger than the last. At first, all I could do was voyeuristically stand there, peering in at him as he touched himself and all the while thinking how goddamn beautiful he looked like that. But that's when it happened, you know -- when I started hating you. Because then I started thinking how unfair it was that someone as handsome and charming as Duo would want his old war buddy to come to bed with him instead of his best girl.

But you know, thinking about it now, especially since we started exchanging letters, I feel like I've stolen something from you -- something that was never meant for me at all. I can only tell you how sorry I am and hope it's enough. I guess I never quite realized how much of that void you filled in his life, and just how empty Duo became because you were no longer at his side. Everything he does to try and brick up that hole your absence left behind has only made crumble a little more each day. I only hope you manage to reach him before it's too late and he's shut himself away entirely -- before the worms eat into his brain. He's built the wall too high, and if not for you, he'll never break free.

Best regards,  
\-- Hilde

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 09 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Solo's made it no fucking secret that he thinks Heero's only worth is that pretty little ass of his, but I sometimes wonder how much Heero notices the way Solo otherwise snubs him. Or if he even realizes Solo's fucking there at all. With Heero, sometimes it's really hard to tell what the hell he's thinking. Or maybe I've just kind of fallen out of practice when it comes to reading him -- I dunno.

I guess that's why I felt totally fucking blindsided when Heero approached me about him -- Solo, that is. You know, for some reason, I kind of expected a discussion like this about Solo to be pretty goddamn ugly, because despite all the things Solo was fucking good for, I usually found that most people really didn't get him too much at all. But then again, Heero was hardly 'most people'.

We'd just been at the pub, talking to a few of the guys about what our next move should be for what everybody had started to call 'the Pink movement'. Heero had started coming along with us ever since I'd brought him to stay with me, and though I think a lot of the fuckers around here had started to accept his presence, I knew they were hardly close to accepting _him_. I'm pretty sure the only goddamn reason they put up with him was because I'd made it pretty fucking clear that he was with me. And they could take that however they goddamn pleased, thanks much. Didn't like the thought of anybody pawing my baby, anyway -- even if he was only like that in my goddamn head. Stupid fuckers....

The question of the moment was whether or not doing something like that march on city hall again was a good idea or not. Everybody was kind of all over the place on it, especially since I wasn't too sure myself. Solo seemed to think doing something really goddamn extravagant was the way to go -- something that would really piss someone the fuck off. I kind of agreed, but I kept having this sneaky feeling that what Solo had in mind was something that had a lot of potential to blow the fuck up in our faces, so I kept myself sort of on the fence about it all. Thinking about it, I even wonder if Solo being so goddamn adamant about blasting the fucking lid off shit was just an attempt to counteract Heero, who kept saying shit about not losing sight of what we were out to prove in the first place.

So it was all a mess and we ended up leaving without really deciding anything, which kind of frustrated me a whole fucking lot. I didn't really blame anybody for that, but the conflict made me really fucking jittery and the worse it got, the more I thought about just blowing the whole thing off and getting junked up instead. Had to be careful about that, too, though, because last time I got real deep into it, Heero really let me fucking have it. Said I scared the fuck out of him and not to be so goddamn careless and stupid and goddamn, I just don't know that I could handle seeing him be so goddamn unhappy with me. I didn't like thinking that I was the reason for that, because the last fucking thing I ever wanted to do was hurt him.

And fucking Solo, after all that, you know all he could say was how Heero was a goddamn rodent that had to be crushed underfoot? God, I never had the urge to throttle somebody so bad when he said that. Solo didn't take to kindly to people who didn't let him do whatever the fuck he wanted. At least I could fucking appreciate that Heero had been worried about me and actually gave a fuck about my existence, which was nice for a fucking change of pace around here. I have to admit, it was sort of relieving to have Heero back; comparing his steadiness to the way Solo always fucking carried on really started to remind me how fucking scary Solo could be... and why I'd wanted to dispose of him so goddamn much back when we were kids.

I wish it was an easy thing to do -- killing, that is. It's not something you can do quick, like ripping off a goddamn band-aid or something. Especially when it comes to trying to snuff out a fucker like Solo, who's about as virile as a fucking roach. He wasn't that fucking easy to get rid of, that's for goddamn sure. The fact that he was still here, even after I thought I'd buried his stupid punk ass all those years ago, was proof enough of that, anyway.

When we were kids, it had kind of been an accident, really. I mean, I was getting to a point where Solo's domineering act was really starting to wear me real fucking thin, but fuck if I knew what to do about it. And then, one day, out of the blue, we had this conflict and it turned into this huge fucking fight, and, I don't know... it just... happened. One minute he was there with his claws sunk deep into me, and the next, it was like shaking a limp doll. I think I strangled him or some shit -- I dunno. I just remember dumping his ass and then running the fuck away. Far, far the fuck away.

That's some of what I had to explain to Heero when he came asking for the goddamn 411 on Solo. Heero still had that business as usual thing to him, so I figured there wasn't any goddamn point in trying to pretend like I didn't know what he was talking about when he asked about it. It was pretty fucking obvious that Heero was real goddamn wary about Solo -- real on edge. It was probably 'cause he'd figured out that Solo was the reason I'd nearly given him that heart attack when he woke up that day and found me all strung out on the floor.

It was weird how goddamn inquisitive Heero could be without really asking you any questions. I told him about the gang I used to run with on L2 and how Solo showed up and helped me turn those fuckers around, kind of like what we were doing here. But he seemed real morbidly fixated on the day I thought I'd killed the fucker, for some reason. I don't know why Heero would be fucking surprised by something like that. He, of all the people in the goddamn world, should know what it's fucking like to be introduced to death at a real early fucking age.

Maybe Heero was just trying to make peace with Solo or something -- figured he might as well, for everybody's sake. But when I mentioned it to him, Heero only stared at me real long and real fucking hard before he said that the only person who needed to find peace with anybody was me. I'm not too sure what he meant by that. Sometimes Heero would say this shit and instead of coming up with something to say, you got stuck trying to figure out where the hell it came from in the first place. A day -- just one fucking day of my life -- I'd like to shrink myself down to be micro-sized so I could sit in Heero's skull and see all those thoughts floating around his head and how fucking beautiful they must all be.

"I know it's kind of hard to like a guy who wanders around in a shirt that says 'I Shot John Lennon'," I said to Heero somewhere during this conversation. "But after a little bit, you kind of start to put up with him, and then you figure, 'Hey, he's really not too goddamned bad after all.'"

I don't know what it is, but I somehow didn't think that Heero was all too convinced of that, at least judging by the way he was still staring at me with that long, hard fucking expression of his. I suppose he was just trying to sort some shit out, so I didn't let it bug me too damn much because I think everybody goes through that kind of crap with everything. Besides, I was cool with the fact that Solo was the sort of fucker that took time to grow on you. Heero would understand it one day -- I'm sure of it. And until then, I knew he'd at least accept Solo, even if Solo was gonna keep being a fucking jackass about it, because that's just how Heero fucking rolls.

You know, when I first met Heero, it didn't take me long to realize he was kind of coming from the same ballpark as me -- that he kinda understood all the shit that made me the fucker I am now because he'd fucking been there too. I mean, it's not like Heero doesn't get struggle or figuring out how to cope with shit. I'm not so fucking retarded that I couldn't see he was still kind of messing with his spot in the big scheme of things. Maybe his way of it was better than mine -- I don't know. We could maybe talk about it one day. I wonder if he ever had the urge to just try and forget it all and do away with everything when it gets too fucking big to deal with -- you know, kind of like the way I do.

But the whole time we were talking, I have to admit, I kept getting this feeling like there was something between the lines he wanted me to pick up -- something he wanted to say but was failing at getting across. While we were talking he eventually got to telling me about where he'd been since the war -- how Une had helped him find a place on one of the new Martian satellites to hole up so nobody would be able to find him. Said that with all the bullshit that was flying around, all the flak he'd been getting from the media and all that crap, the only thing he wanted to do was vanish so he wouldn't have to put up with it. I told him I didn't blame him all too much.

"But it was just an excuse -- an excuse to run away," he said, and I stared at him like he'd just cracked open his fucking skull to take out his brain and throw it out the goddamn window. But even still, I could tell he wasn't fucking around -- not with the way he was looking at me... how he had his hands twisting so nervously in his lap. "How do you ignore life -- cut yourself off from it entirely? You can't, really. It's selfish and it -" He shook his head and just stopped. I couldn't tell if it was because he'd been about to say something he didn't want to -- or maybe it was something he just couldn't. Even now, I can't help but wonder what it is he meant to say. I feel like such a fucking moron.

Anyway, I said to him that there wasn't really anything wrong with running away. "I do it all the goddamn time," I said with this sort of proud tone, and then I reminded him of my favourite motto. I told him you gotta find a way to keep your ass outta the fire _somehow_, but it was hard to tell if he agreed or not.

So I really got to wondering what it was that Heero wanted from me -- and then all those things Solo would say would get to me and I'd be suspicious. And that just crushed me up inside because Heero was the last person I had any faith in at all. Maybe he saw something in me I didn't -- wanted to tell me something I couldn't hear. There were just so many things I didn't understand anymore and it was confusing and frustrating and I wished to high heaven I knew what I ought to think.

Or -- I don't know -- maybe I've just become super jaded. Believe it or not, I used to think that patience was really the only thing you needed, and if shit sucked, well, if you wait a little, things would work themselves out. When I was a kid, I caught a fleeting glimpse of all that, just out of the corner of my eye. But by the time I was fifteen and I'd turned to try and really look, it was gone, and I can't put my finger on it anymore. Doesn't matter, I guess. The child is grown, and the dream is gone, and once again, all I can think is how I've become so comfortably numb.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 13 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in another hand]

D, I thought I made it clear to you that your little fuck toy wasn't welcome -- _especially_ when the whole 'hood's gathered 'round for some revving. Where the fuck did he get the idea that it was perfectly okay for him to just fucking invite himself to the rally like he was one of us? Get a goddamn clue, D: he's _not_ one of us; he'll never be one of us. He's a sneaky fucking outsider and he's only here to try and steal you the fuck away from what you know is goddamn right. Don't you dare fucking fall for it, D. I'll fucking kill you if you do.

I mean, you look out at all the fuckers who're standing behind us and then you see that fucking bitch of yours out there in the crowd, and he sticks out like a goddamn Christmas tree on Halloween. It ain't right and I don't fucking like it -- not one fucking bit -- so quit looking all starry-eyed at him all the goddamn time. It pisses me the fuck off. At the end of the day, who's the one who's always got your fucking back -- the one you always ought to listen to if you want to keep your ass out of the fire? You fucking know it's me, D. You fucking _know_ it.

I mean, he is fucking pretty, I'll give you that. But your taste isn't what's under fire here, D. If he's not spreadin' 'em, then I don't see what your goddamn attachment is. He's obviously just here so he can fucking feel better about himself after going off on his own like he didn't give a fuck for so goddamn long. To him, you're as good as a fucking ego rub. Do you seriously think he's here because he gives a fuck about _you_? You, D? No one gives a fuck about you! No one but me! I don't know why you have such a goddamn hard time getting it through your thick fucking skull. The sooner you close yourself off, the better it'll be for fucking everybody. Make him pay for forcing you to the outside for so long -- just what he deserves! Only a little bit for the rotten bit he gives you.

But don't you worry too fucking hardcore about it, lil' man, 'cause I'll take care of you. I called the bitch out on it -- right there in front of the whole goddamn 'hood, so everybody knows what a little cunt he is, trying to poison you and all that fucking nonsense he keeps trying to spout to you. It sounded fucking amazing, if I do say so myself, and I hope what I said fucking sticks with the bitch for good -- that he never forgets a goddamn word of it! I remember all of it, too, word for word. This is what I said.

"And you! You, there!" -- I said -- "You're not fooling anyone here with that goddamn weak act of yours, Heero fucking Yuy! Did you think you could come fucking crawling in here to sympathetic arms if you just pushed the right buttons with a few of the right people? Well fuck that noise, you goddamn fuck! What kind of fucking hero splits the second he can, even while the world is still fucking looking up to him? Not any goddamn hero of mine -- no one I need! You're just an ordinary, piddling piece of fucking shit, and you've got no right to parade in here at your own goddamn convenience. You didn't want anything to do with the world as it was still turning, and now, the world doesn't fucking want anything to do with you. So just go the hell back to wherever you came from, you fucker, and keep your goddamn meddling hands out of it. You're not wanted anymore."

You see, D? It's not so hard, once you train yourself that you don't fucking need anybody. He's gone and he won't hurt you anymore. It's like pruning a fucking tree... cutting back all the branches that get in the way, even if they've got a lot of nice-looking flowers hanging off 'em.

\-- Solo

FUCK YOU SOLO. What the fuck did you do to him?

\-- D

\- -

Letter drafted 08 / 14 / AC207  
From H.Y. to H.S.

Hilde,

You know, all my life, one thing I thought I had a fair hand at was adapting to new situations -- starting over from scratch like it was nothing. Heaven knows I'd done it enough times to have a sufficient amount of practice under my belt, at any rate. But here, I find myself down and out and on my own again, and for the first time, I don't know where to turn -- because no matter what I do, I can't help but keep looking back at where I've been and longing to be there again.

There's something wrong sitting with Duo -- that's more than clear -- but it's hard to say exactly what it is. I don't think he's changed, but I think he's hiding -- trying hard to keep something inside. We used to have this connection -- something practically unspoken between the pair of us -- but it seems severed and hard to reach, now. Maybe I brought it upon myself, shutting myself off because I didn't know any other way to cope with the end of the wars. Or maybe it's something he's just afraid for me to see -- I don't know. I just wish he felt that same comfort around me that he used to. I'm here for him -- always have been, even if it didn't always seem that way. It's like he's been shouting so long, his voice has just finally given out, and he's not even trying to be heard anymore. But I do. Want to listen, that is. God, I can't tell you how much I want to.

You told me that he [harboured feeli] felt things he didn't feel fit to share with others. Maybe he's let them build up inside for too long, and that's what's confusing him so. He seems unsure of what he wants from life, and now, he's just been left clawing at nothing. Like he's trying to put star shine in a bottle. If, that is, he can even find it at all. His frustration comes out in ways that, even I must admit, are almost unbearable to deal with.

If I knew how to help him, I'd stop the world to do it, but he lashes out at anyone who reaches too near. The problem is seeded deep in his head, and is leeching him parasitically. I can hardly stand watching Duo struggle with himself, and it's only made worse by imagining what it must be like for him. Some days, it just seems like all he feels like doing is lying down to die. It rips me apart.

It became clearer to me the other day, seeing how conflicted he is even on simple things, like whether or not he can still trust [someone he was] an old friend. One minute, he's keeping me close like my company is truly some kind of solace, and the next, he's violent, trying hard to push away everything that touches him. I've found myself a little threadbare, and for the moment, I'm keeping my distance until I can think of something to do that will actually be of use. If it's my presence that's been hurting him, then it's probably best I remove myself from the situation until he realizes that I'm here for him, now. [Just as I]

Anyway, Duo's landlady has been more than kind to me, considering the situation, and she's been helping me for the time being. I think she has a soft spot for Duo -- sees he's struggling with a lot. I appreciate that she also seems to recognize that I'm not an enemy, and I find her to be a suitable confidante. I suppose it's this matriarchal sort of air she seems to exude; it's not something I'm particularly used to, but I found I've warmed up to easily all the same. She's helped ease my fears about Duo, filling in some of the gaps about his time here that I haven't been able to get out of him personally. And though it sounds stupid, she has also reassured me that Duo hasn't fallen out of love with the Beatles.

I'm such a wreck feeling so sorry for myself, but I just know there's no amount of anything -- no crying, no whiskey, nothing -- that will do. I won't be warm until I'm lying in his arms. Nothing else will do: I just want Duo. I'm lonely without him.

Regards,  
\-- Heero

PS  
I know you're good friends with Dr. Po. Is it possible for you to forward me her contact information? I have no way of tracking her down at the moment, and I think her advice would be vital at this stage.

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 15 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I'm sick of the way Solo keeps fucking jerking me around. He's not my goddamned boss, but he sure as fuck seems to think he is. Sent Heero -- Heero fucking Yuy, of all the people in the fucking world! -- running off! Solo's acting like all the other ignorant assholes on the planet that think that Heero's not got any goddamn feelings. Well, anybody who thinks that shit couldn't be more fucking wrong, I say -- and I'd fucking know. Unless... unless maybe Solo knows too? Ugh, that wouldn't be any fucking better, knowing that Solo's going out of his way to cut Heero down in places he knows he's vulnerable. Solo's the complete wrong fucking person to have figure out that Heero's a hell of a lot more sensitive than he's reputed to be. I wish there was some fucking way to make Heero realize I don't mean any of the stupid things Solo says on my behalf -- and a way to keep Solo good and far from Heero. I get panicked wondering what the fuck Solo's got in mind when it comes to Heero. I just know, whatever it is, Heero's not one of the people who goddamn deserves it. I just can't figure out why the fuck Solo's got such a time trying to figure that the fuck out.

At least I know Heero's still hanging around here to keep up his effort to lay low, even if he's not staying with me. I'm afraid to approach him in case fucking Solo catches on, but I wish there was a way for me to let him know that it's okay for him to come back, because fuck, I miss him. Maybe I'll let Old Lady Waters know; I see Heero coming and going from her flat a lot, lately.

Unless maybe he doesn't want to come back? Holy fuck, what if Solo's fucked shit up so bad, Heero really doesn't want shit to do with me? I mean, I've been trying really fucking hard to tell myself that all the B.S. Solo says about Heero is totally worthless, but it's really fucking hard to keep thinking that way when the evidence seems really fucking skewed half the time. I seriously have no fucking idea what I ought to think anymore. What a fucking chump I am.

I'm starting to wonder if Solo's just jealous or some shit. I can't really imagine why, though. Maybe Heero was just creeping in a bit too fucking close for comfort or something. Maybe Solo's freaked out that Heero's trying to steal me from him, or something equally ridiculous. Heero can't fucking steal what already belongs to him, anyway.

But the weirdest fucking thing is hearing the way Solo talks about Heero in private, especially when you compare it to the shit the asshole pulls on the poor guy in public. I mean, after that whole fucking incident where Solo singled Heero out in the middle of a goddamn rally, we came back to the apartment and I had to listen to Solo say some of the most fucking uncomfortable things in the world about Heero. Maybe he felt like it was okay to say that shit with Heero not around -- I have no fucking clue -- but I thought I'd gotten him to stop that kind of crap since that disgusting suggestion he'd had when I'd first brought Heero back here. Guess I was pretty fucking wrong about that, huh? Just imagining those things makes me feel dirty, and I have to go stand in the shower for about half the fucking day, just scrubbing until I bleed so I don't have to think about it anymore. Just... just not Heero. I'd die first.

Anyway, in the meantime, I think I'll go rooting around for Solo's stash. I know he keeps a bunch of junk somewhere in the kitchen. I know I probably shouldn't, but it's the only thing I can think of to help me even _begin_ to fucking deal with this mess. Though I've started trying to be more careful, because I sometimes wonder if Solo keeps me with this chicken shit habit up so he can keep shooting bull I'll swallow. I hate the way he's always gotten all this fucking pleasure out of making me feel so small for so fucking long.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 22 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

You know, I never realized that I was so fucking intimidating to approach until I read the note I found wedged into the doorjamb this morning. It was from Heero.

It seemed like he'd been mulling over what to say and how to say it for a while -- if all the scribbled out words and strikethroughs were an indication, anyway. Sometimes I wonder if he meant for me to see those things. Or maybe he was just too busy trying to get his thoughts out and didn't even care. I mean, even his goddamn handwriting was a mess, especially towards the end, where the ink got all fucking splotchy; as far as I remember, Heero's always had very controlled lettering.

Unfortunately, I had to toss the damn thing right after I read it, just in case Solo came across it, because I know he'd fucking flip if he saw some of the shit that was in there. It's alright, though, because I've saved it in my memory. Not even goddamn Solo can take it from there, and I can call upon it whenever the hell I want without having to look over my shoulder like a goddamn lunatic. And it's closer to my heart there. I think Heero would like to know that. If I can ever get it in me to tell him, anyway. I just hope Solo don't catch me when I'm thinking about him -- Heero, that is.

But you ever know what it's like to have an epiphany? Like, a real one? I think that's what came over me with Heero's letter. It just hit me the fuck in the face, like a ton of goddamn bricks, how fucking stupid I am. I can't believe I ever could have confused affection like that -- like the things that Heero felt for me compared to the shit Solo throws in my face. I mean, was I so fucking desolate that in my desperation, the only fucking thing I could cling to was someone as unruly and filthy as Solo? And that I actually accepted that as someone really fucking caring? How goddamn needy was I?

I mean, it sounds stupid to make such a big deal about it like it was some kind of major fucking revelation to me, because it's not, really. I mean, I've always known that Heero was nothing like Solo. (Maybe that's part of what attracted me to the guy in the first place?) Solo was divisive and bawdy and full of all the sin that made an unpleasant person, while Heero was full of life and love and genuine _feeling_. Laugh if you goddamn want, but it's true: Heero's not like anybody else, or even like the person that everybody _thinks_ he is. Heero is.... Well, Heero's special -- far more than the piece of tail fucking Solo likes to reduce him to. It's more like he's... he's like the tails side of the coin my head's been after -- the tails I can't see for all the fucking pocket gunk that's got me mired on my side. Though, truth be told, I guess I don't always have to be able to see Heero to know he's got my back. That's something I never got to fucking doubt. Ever.

Which is why I guess it stands to say that when Heero spoke, I listened. I mean, he wasn't the sort to just say things for the sake of saying them. There was _meaning_ in every word that passed his lips if you were paying close attention to him. I liked to think I usually did, even if I'd been doing a really fucking bad job as of late. He says he still thinks I'm empty, and really, when I think about it, it almost seems like he's offering himself to fill the void. God, if only he knew how easily I'd let him. If I still can, anyway.

At the same time, it's painfully obvious to me how fucking severed off Solo has made me, even from the person I was closest to. I wonder if that's what the stupid dick had been waiting and waiting to do for so goddamn long. He never did like it when I paid attention to anybody else, so I guess I shouldn't be too fucking surprised, but still. Bet he took one look at Heero and figured if he couldn't have all of him, then the only other fucking thing would be to get rid of him entirely. I can't decide if it's more fucking stupid for Solo to think he could really get away with that, or for Heero to stick around like Solo was hardly a fucking blip on the radar.

Really, though, for all his goddamn brains, I'm not sure Heero quite realizes that Solo's not something you can dump out with yesterday's trash -- and I'd fucking know! It also doesn't really help none too much that Solo's got me prickled up enough to spend most of my time wondering why the fuck Heero would even bother. Because to be goddamn frank, if it were me, I wouldn't fucking bother with me, that's for damn sure. Biggest fucking waste of a genius I've ever fucking seen, that's for double damn sure.

So you tell me: which of us really is the goddamn fool?

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 26 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

We mimicked Rage and played some of their old songs out in front of city hall yesterday, and it fucking kicked the shit outta the suits. They even called the Preventers in an effort to toss us out on our asses, but we only stopped when the sky ripped itself open and started to pour fucking cats and dogs all over us. I mean, hey, it's not like we were fucking hurting anybody, so fuck that, anyway. I bet Relena woulda been done proud to see it! I was wet and gross from the rain, but I was operating on such a fucking high, it was ridiculous, and I stumbled back to the flat feeling giddier than I had in a real long fucking time. I wanted to find some dope and celebrate all goddamn night with the thunder.

But I can't explain it: when I came back and I found Heero waiting on the sofa, it just drained and ran out of me like I'd left it all out in the hall when I closed the door behind me. I don't know what it was about seeing him there, sitting all nervous-like, with his elbows digging into his knees and his hands twisting around a book he wasn't paying any attention to. In another life, where things weren't all fucked up, I might have thought he was waiting to pick me up on our first date or some shit. That smart style of his -- the button up shirt and the slacks -- sure didn't take away from that image, either, and I got to admit, it did make me smile. It was okay to dream a little, right?

I knew what his answer would be, but because I'm a fucking moron, the only thing I could think to start off with was to ask what he was waiting for. And of course, just like I expected, he said, "You," and looked up at me with the most fucking heartbreaking look I'd ever seen in those unforgettable blue eyes of his. "I wanted to talk to you," he said. Said he wanted to hear my voice again -- that he missed me more in the past week or so than he had in the years we'd been apart.

I didn't know what that meant or how to take it.

I told him that I was there for him now and that I would be for however long he'd have me. I went to sit next to him on the sofa, and he discarded the book and let it fall to the floor. I found myself staring down at it like a dumb fuck, just so I'd have something to focus on without having to lose myself in those expressive eyes of his. The book was _'Siddhartha'_; I think I reread the cover at least a hundred times, and all the while, I could feel him pinning me with his gaze.

"You're sure I have you all to myself?" he wanted to know. The unexpectedness of the question had me looking up into his eyes anyway. There must have been something in the way I was staring back at him that answered the question for me, because he let it drop. Maybe he realized that I had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Wasn't it obvious that Solo wasn't around?

He sucked in this huge breath and starting rubbing his hands together and staring straight ahead like he was fixated on our reflection across the blank T.V. screen. He seemed nervous anyway, like he expected Solo to pop out from behind the couch and surprise us or some shit. Hell, it really was like a first date. And just as goddamn awkward, too. I still couldn't tell what the hell he was thinking and it made me feel weird, because I've never spent a moment with Heero where I couldn't at least guess what was on his mind. I felt like I was sitting next to a shadow that was so close to the man I loved, and yet, I couldn't quite touch him. Not anymore. Or maybe, I was never meant to. Fuck...

He started to stumble over a few more words, but I suddenly thought of something I wanted to say, so I cut him off. I had to get it out -- thought maybe it would help remove some of the bricks in the wall between us. I didn't want to be separate from him -- didn't want this unnatural distance from him to spread so far, even when we were sitting right next to each other. I said, "Heero, about the other day, and the things that -"

He took it like it was some kind of cue and perked up as if it was what he'd been waiting for me to bring up. But instead of actually saying anything, he just met my eyes again and searched them like the answer he wanted was something he could only see, not hear. Then something I never expected happened, and he leaned forward, and his arms snaked around my body and he pressed himself close to me in this hug that enveloped me so tight, I thought he didn't ever plan on letting go. He leaned his head on my shoulder and he said in this breathy voice that rasped across my neck that he didn't give a fuck if I didn't want him around, and no matter how hard I tried to chase him away, he was going to keep coming back no matter what. He said it had taken him far too fucking long to realize how goddamn proud and selfish he was, and now that he knew what he needed, there was no chance he would ever risk letting it go again.

And I, still the dumb fuck, could only sit there, dumbfounded, with my hands hanging limply at my sides as I stared at nothing, just trying to figure out what the hell he was referring to. I thought he was being kind of ridiculous: Heero was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn't fucking proud or selfish or anything like that. I made sure to tell him so, but he didn't say anything and just kept clinging to me like I was the last stable fucking thing in his universe. With some ill-placed humour, I found that a little ironic.

Out of nowhere, he murmured into my sopping shoulder that he missed that sound, and only then did I realize that the ironic thought had made me chuckle -- which then got me trying to remember when the last time I'd fucking laughed was. I was really unnerved to find that I couldn't even fucking remember. I might have spent more time thinking about it and how pathetic it all was if it weren't for a wetness seeping into my shirt that I quickly realized had nothing to do with being caught up in that goddamn storm. And like the fucking idiot I am, all I could think of to say was, "Those things that were said -- you know I don't think that about you, right? You know that, don't you, Heero?"

He didn't really say anything back, but made this noise into my shirt that I thought kind of sounded like an agreed, "I know, I know..." so that's what I took it to mean. I still didn't understand why he was holding me the way he was, or why he'd started crying all of the sudden. It might have been out of character but for the weighing emotion I could feel quaking in his very shoulders. I found my mind wandering to other thoughts, like if he'd ever let himself fall apart like this, and if he had, if it had been around anyone other than me. I couldn't decide if it was good or bad that I got really fucking jealous of anybody who that might have been, even though I fucking knew better than that.

It took him a few moments, but he finally stopped, and I vaguely wondered if it had to do with the fact that one of my hands had found its way into his hair, which was somehow very soft but very course at the same time. He quickly threw my hand out of there when he sat up to look at my face again, and then asked with that no-bullshit tone of his what the fuck I was looking for in order to be happy.

I think my jaw kind of got a bit slack and I stared at him with that same idiot expression that was starting to kind of stick to my goddamn features. I crossed my arms and swallowed, looking everywhere but into his earnest eyes and asked him why he didn't think I was already happy. "It wasn't what I was expecting, but what the fuck ever is?" I said. "I got everything I need right here in Chicago: I got a home, people who respect and care about me, something to fight for and...." I kind of trailed off there, because I still was a little hesitant to admit that his arrival had been a big factor in making that big fucking empty go away. I wasn't sure if it was too soon to say those kinds of things, anyway.

But Heero was no fucking slouch and I think he was pretty wise to my tactics. Such a goddamn obvious fumble wasn't going to slip past him unnoticed. He pressed me for more, but luckily, the few extra seconds had given me time to think of something else to say in order to kind of beat around the bush. Too bad he didn't buy that shit, either.

I wouldn't say he was getting impatient or anything, but I could tell he was a little at his wit's end -- getting into this kind of desperate state I'd always associated with when he was starting to run out of ideas. I could practically _hear_ the gears in his head starting to spin around faster, but there was something in his demeanor that indicated he was steering totally off course -- that he was just making shit up as he went. I could appreciate that: I did that kind of shit all the time.

"Duo, are you really sure about all that?" he asked, though I got to admit I was a little more aware of the fact that he'd inserted an inch or so between our positions on the sofa than of what he was really saying. This time, I fixated on the puke-pink stripes on the sofa cushions and how they dipped enticingly beneath the curve of Heero's thigh.

Distracted, I admitted I had no fucking clue what he was trying to say.

I think he'd started to get his fire back, because he suddenly didn't seem like he was just blindly groping for whatever the hell came to mind. He started on this whole thing about deluding myself -- about how I was just trying to force square pegs into round holes or some other ridiculous thing.

When I looked up from the stripes, his thighs and the space between, I just shrugged and told him I didn't think he'd ever be capable of such bullshit. Really, I barely took in a word he even said.

He let out this exasperated kind of moan, almost, and then he said my name in this way that nearly broke my fucking heart, and I started listening then. "Duo, have you even realized how wholeheartedly you're throwing yourself into nothing?" he started off -- a comment I would have thrown my two cents at if he'd given me a second to even take a goddamn breath. He kept fucking blazing onwards, though. "Really, what have you got to show for all the energy you've been putting into this so-called cause? In all the months you've been at this, what's really changed? Can you really say that you're any farther than you were when you started?" His voice was picking up speed as he went on. "One man can't take all the problems of the world onto his shoulders, Duo. Sometimes... sometimes you just have to accept the way things are."

The whole time, he was doing that nervous thing with his hands in his lap again and he kept biting on his lips really fucking hard, and I thought it was a wonder he didn't make them bleed -- though I did suddenly find myself overwhelmed with the urge to kiss away the puffiness that had plumped them instead. I had to awkwardly cross my legs because the ensuing thoughts of where we could go from there were fucking X-rated and way too big for my fucking jeans. I was lofty, trying damn fucking hard to divert his attention; I said: "Well, maybe it would be different if you actually put your ass in there to help us out! If Relena can do it, then why the fuck can't I?"

He stared back at me with that damn searching look of his, and it seemed like he was going to try and say something other than what ended up coming out. He just kept staring at his hands all balled up on his thighs and mumbled something along the lines of, "Trust me, I would know."

There was a flickering moment where it hit me where he was coming from, but since I'm a total fucking jackass, it didn't sit for too long. I was too caught up in trying to prove myself to him -- to prove myself to me. I asked him what the hell was wrong with having something to fight for. What the fuck did he have against trying to find something that gave your life _meaning_? That snotty, jackass part of me felt the air of triumph when he didn't really say anything to that, instead just bending to pick up his book and mumbling God knows what to himself. I thought maybe it sounded like he said he wondered if I'd even know meaning when I found it anymore.

He tossed the book into the gap between us, (which I noticed had widened further still at this point) and leaned back against the sofa, rubbing the inside corner of his eye like he was trying to dry the fucker out. "The world's a big place that just keeps growing every day, and each one of us is only very small," he was saying softly, and I could hear how goddamn choked up he was getting. His voice then dropped so fucking low, I could barely hear it over the flutter of pages as I idly thumbed through his book. "Lately, I've come to realize, maybe the best thing you can do is simply to make the most out of yourself. To seek out that one person who makes you happy, and to hold on as tightly as you can...."

It was around there I stopped, because right then, I came across something that made me freeze up like we'd suddenly been dropped into the Arctic Sea. I noticed he was suddenly regarding me real fucking carefully too, and it didn't take a fucking genius to tell that the envelope he was using as a bookmark would be something telling.

I put up my guard, stared right back at him, cool as you fucking please, and took out the envelope. Didn't take me too fucking long to recognize the return address: it was from L2, and I'd had mail delivered to that same goddamn place for a good chunk of time after the last fucking war.

I turned on him in an instant, suddenly not even giving a fuck if I seemed irrational or not. Just started yelling about it, wanting to know what the fuck he was doing writing to Hilde and what the hell they were talking about and why and all this shit. I crumpled the envelope and tossed it aside -- grabbed the book and flung it across the room. I could tell he hadn't expected such a violent reaction, but he seemed to respect my need to just fucking let loose, content to just remain on the couch while I ripped into the back cushions with my nails and pounded on the arm nearest to me. All the while, I was shouting crap like, "You goddamn traitor! How could you do this? What, you carrying on some kind of side love affair with that old bitch? I should have known you were doing shit behind my back, you goddamn little liar!" and "Solo was fucking right about you!"

He seemed to be waiting for me to calm down a little before he gave his explanation, but that last comment seemed to really strike a nerve. His voice still seemed kind of raw when he spoke, but there was a certain quavering in it that almost made me feel bad for flipping my shit like I did. He said, "We were keeping in touch because we both care about _you_!" And then he muttered quietly, "Even if you don't believe it."

"BULLSHIT!" I screamed at him, and my hand blindly grabbed the first thing it could to lob at him. I didn't even realize it was the table lamp until the fucking thing exploded into a million fucking shards when it hit the wall behind the place where his goddamn head had been right before he'd fucking ducked.

He was pleading with me to get a hold of myself, but I wasn't really fucking listening because I was too goddamn pissed off. Instead, I leapt to my feet and gave the coffee table a kick so fucking hard, I took off one of its legs and said, "Give me one good fucking reason why I should listen to a single goddamn thing you got to say, double-crosser!" Here, I stomped down hard onto the top of the broken table and grinned like a fucking madman when I heard the wood splinter beneath my boot.

He kept trying to 'explain' why he thought keeping up with Hilde wasn't such a big fucking deal, but I wasn't going to put up with any of that shit. If he was going to go aligning himself with an enemy, then he was no goddamn friend of mine! I should learn to trust Solo's instincts on this shit, if there was any kind of fucking lesson to be learned here.

"Go on -- go and tell me what you and the bitch were cooking up! I goddamn dare you!" I taunted him; "Tell me how you were planning to whisk me back to her and fit me into your little white-bread mold!"

But he kept insisting it wasn't anything like that, which just pissed me the hell off more. With a cry of rage, I yanked the T.V. off its table and hurled it as far as I could. Fucking thing went right through the goddamn window -- broke the glass and the windowpane and everything -- but I hardly fucking noticed. I was too busy trying to keep the fire from coming out of my mouth -- especially when he got up and grabbed me and held me still as best he could. Which, I might add, isn't any kind of throwaway comment, 'cause despite his size, Heero was still like a goddamn tiger.

He started dragging me back over to the sofa, pushed me onto the seat and held me down there by the wrists. "You fucking listen to me, Duo Maxwell, and you fucking listen good," he said, holding my eyes with an expression so fierce, it prickled even my goddamn skin. He was all up in my space and when I tried to turn my head so I wouldn't have to see myself in his eyes, he grabbed my fucking chin and held it in place with a pair of fingers that crushed bruises into the sides of my face. "What do I have to do for you to understand that everything I fucking do -- the reason even I'm still fucking here -- is because I'm fucking in _love_ with you?"

And that was how he said it -- just fucking like that. I could only stare at him with my dumb ass gawky eyes, breathing so loud, it was the only goddamn sound in the room I could really hear as we lingered there, all in the wake of all my own goddamned destruction. Here, I'd made this mess and lived in all this fucking squalor, and yet, he was bending down to wrap his arms around me real fierce again. His messy hair was a comfort against my aching cheek and his voice was softer now -- more gentle. "I'm here -- here for you," he was mumbling as this drowsy sort of haze started to cling to me. I think it was because of how his scent filled me with every breath. "I'll wait for you, just... let me be yours. Let me...." He was trailing off, still holding me as he said those things, and all I could fucking think about were his lips.

And you know what the craziest fucking thing was? After so many goddamn years of yearning after him, I found myself sitting there completely overwhelmed and unable to speak. It was like he'd stolen the voice right out of my throat -- the same way he'd stolen my goddamn heart so long ago. But no matter what popped into my head, I kept feeling like I'd say the wrong fucking thing and fucking ruin things forever, so I decided it was better to just not say anything at all. Really, I'm not as good at talking as everybody seems to think for whatever goddamn reason. Any skill I ever had for rhetoric probably has more to do with fucking Solo than anything that actually comes naturally to me, I think.

But while I was all caught up in my goddamn stupid thoughts, I was abruptly pulled back to the fucking ground when I realized the stillness had been broken and he was starting to draw away. He was murmuring some nonsense like that I should just fucking forget it, and that what was done was done -- something about comparing his lousy luck to mine. He seemed upset and wasn't really making all that much fucking sense, to be honest. Maybe he'd taken my inability to say the right words as some kind of rejection. Goddamn, why was it that everything I did somehow ended up getting fucked over?

So I reached out for him and caught his hand and tried to pull him back into my arms, though he seemed a little reluctant to let himself go back to that wonderful place we'd been before. I got depressed thinking that I'd let the moment just blow the fuck by, and yet, here I still was, unable to turn away. Then again, I don't think I ever could. I said, "Man, sometimes, I really just _don't_ understand you, Heero Yuy."

This tiny smile wavered across those kissable lips of his and I felt myself falling for it all over again as he quietly said something about not really understanding himself, either. In an instant, I didn't give a fuck what Solo said or thought or whatever, because whether or not Heero accepted me far outshone whether or not Solo did. I wondered if he really understood how much he sent me spinning in circles around him, and though I thought it would be dumb to try and explain, I did anyway.

"I don't have much to believe in, Duo, but I... I still believe in you," he said, his voice like a whisper -- somehow soothing, despite the haunting lilt it carried: sad, yet hopeful; forlorn and yet, still confident. "Please stop running away from everything -- away from me! I -" He was folding himself more leniently into my hold again, falling onto the sofa so close to me, one of is legs was practically overlapping mine. "Wherever you keep retreating to... I just wish you'd at least... let me hide there with you, too. So you wouldn't have to be lonely anymore."

Those strong arms were wrapping themselves back around my torso and his head fell against my shoulder. Instinct was what propelled me to pull him closer into an embrace I'd only ever dreamed of holding him in as I self consciously insisted to him I wasn't all that bad off. I chewed my lip nervously, sure that he'd want to break free at any second, and I'd wake the fuck up to discover that the easy way he fit in my arms had been just a very, very cruel goddamn dream.

"You are," he murmured, his blue eyes flicking up at me for a moment before he buried his face back into the fabric of my shirt, which was still fucking wet. "Because you're the same as me."

There was this odd pulse that suddenly ripped through my body -- one that shot up so fast, it got lodged in my throat like a knotted pain I couldn't swallow. I'd lost him once, but I'd fuck myself sideways if I was ever going to let my stupid pride steal him away again. "Really?" I managed to choke out, even though my voice sounded like a goddamn truck had run over it about a hundred times. I feebly asked if that meant he thought about me the same way I thought about him. Immediately, I felt this godawfully embarrassing blush flame up my cheeks and I started worrying about what I'd gone and let my big fucking mouth do this time.

He trampled my insecurities with one little word, though -- one I'll never, ever forget. With his voice still all hushed and shy, he said: "Everyday."

In that moment, I think the world stopped spinning, and everything else -- the pain and the misery and the loneliness, all of it! -- just faded away until there was nothing but me and him and my puke-pink sofa, hovering in this place where my soul seemed to fill me so completely, my body could hardly hold it prisoner anymore. And he was there and I could feel him in a way that no dream could have ever imagined: our foreheads bent against one another, his body twisted in my arms -- his every breath, mine.

Then, I was aware of a dark kind of sweetness on my tongue, and I realized it was the taste of his lips pressing gently against mine, and even the sofa seemed to have vanished from beneath us. Instead, it was like we'd been surrounded by heaven and falling fast through all the stars, but I wasn't afraid for a goddamn change, because I had Heero to hold onto. It was like having my hands on a miracle.

And somehow, we managed to land on our feet after it was all over, and it made me think of all the things we'd been through and how we'd found a way to survive all that, too. It made me realize it was gonna be alright.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Article dated 08 / 27 / AC207  
Written for 'The Chicago Daily Tribune'

Former Preventer Agent Detained for Questioning

BRUXELLES, BELGIUM -- One-time Preventer agent and current editor of the 'ESUN International Herald', Chang Wufei, was taken in to headquarters due to strong evidence that he has been shielding the whereabouts of Heero Yuy. Sources say that Chang had received correspondence from Yuy regarding more detailed information about the Chicago-based movement under the revolutionary figure known simply as Pink.

Paled only by Quatre Winner, Chang was the most recognized of the colonial rebels. He had joined the Preventers straight after the Mariemaia coup at the urging of one-time comrade, Sally Po, who felt that his participation in an agency working for the greater good would be the best thing for a directionless individual such as him. However, both Po and Chang were among the agents to leave when the agency's leadership shifted, and Chang soon found himself with a position at the Herald due to his well-to-do childhood and education. Unfortunately, it was thanks to Chang that the once bipartisan publication took a heavily liberal slant, choosing to favour the work of controversial figurehead, Relena Darlian.

The common knowledge of the exclusive camaraderie Chang, Darlian and Yuy all shared with the other Gundam pilots makes a clear segue to the motivation Chang would have for protecting one of them. With Chang's particular political leanings also smeared across every page of the Herald, it's no surprise that he would impede an ongoing investigation to do so. Chang, of course, denies any accusation of guilty actions. "I came to Heero Yuy's aid as a friend, not a political agitator," Chang said in a press release the other day. "His segregation from mainstream society has kept him far from things many of you may take for granted."

Interesting words for a man who is charged with aiding the liaison between two wanted individuals. It is unclear as to why, after so much time in seclusion, Yuy would risk his freedom to track down otherwise inconsequential information about Pink. Chang claims he knows nothing as to why the Pink movement suddenly sparked Yuy's interest, and iterates firmly that any personal theories he has on the matter are completely unimportant. The truth of that remains yet to be seen, though it is probable that Yuy found there was some sort of connection between Pink and himself.

Also brought in for questioning was staff writer Clarice Hunter and staff photographer, Sara Hellman, who, sources also say, had key parts in providing Chang with the information Yuy needed. However, both claim that Chang never told them who required all their research on Pink, Said Hellman: "I was simply asked to supply a copy of the contact sheet from our trip to Chicago. For all I knew, Clarice just wanted to do a follow-up story." Still, both women have been placed on indefinite leave until concrete proof of their claims have been found.

The search for Yuy and Pink has escalated, especially in light of the high possibility that whoever Pink is, he is somehow related to Yuy and the other pilots. The ease with which these former pilots exercise their skills may be cause for higher scrutiny against any potential uprising. Investigations to link the Preventers agents that went missing outside of Pink's neighbourhood to this debacle are also being prioritized. After all, to keep the ESUN as one, we must work together to keep it free of those who seek to poison it.

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 28 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

The first morning I woke up and found Heero naked in my bed, I nearly had a fucking heart attack. I just -- I don't know; it's not that I forgot what we'd done the night before, but I freaked out worrying that maybe I'd done something Heero hadn't wanted. Couldn't remember if he'd been the one to kiss me, or if I'd been too aggressive with him -- it was all just a big fuzz all in my fucking head, and I couldn't tell which stuff was real, and which stuff I'd just made the fuck up.

He was still sleeping at that point, so he probably had no idea I was practically hyperventilating and twitching like none other. Didn't help that when I gave him a closer look (because there was a weird moment where I wasn't even sure if Heero _himself_ was something I'd just fucking imagined) he had all the markings of someone who'd had a rough night. Fucking drove a stake through my heart to think I'd been the one to do that kind of thing to him.

But moments later, when he started to wake up, he didn't seem bothered by a goddamn thing in the world. He just stirred a little and then rolled over onto his back so he could look up at me with this unbelievably adoring expression on his face, and it just confused me even more. But I didn't want to go and fuck things up and say something stupid, so I just reached for him, all the while madly trying to remember everything just right. Goddamn, I can't tell you what a fucking screw-up I am -- especially when the itch is bothering me. But he just mumbled a sleepy "Good morning" and then pulled me down for a kiss. I gotta say, kissing Heero is definitely something I'm not going to ever grow out of, but when we parted, I couldn't help but ask him why the fuck he would.

Now he was the one who looked fucking confused as he propped himself up on his elbows. "I told you before, Duo: I _love_ you," he said, running a hand through his bed-mussed hair before sitting up all the way. "I've loved you for... a very long time." His cheeks darkened to this sweet, pinkish tone and he looked down at his lap all sheepish-like, where he was doing that nervous thing with his hands. And I, the big fucking pervert, could only think about what he'd been using his hands for earlier and how good it had been down there between his thighs.

I was going to say I loved him too, except for he'd mentioned something that just left me staring at him with this dumb, quixotic kind of look on my fucking face instead. Heero's a smart fucker, and it didn't take him long to figure out why I looked like I'd just swallowed a whale.

"It's true," he said, glancing up at me to gauge my reaction before he went on. His hands were still knotting themselves around my stupid sheets like he meant to shred them or something. "It didn't take me long to figure out that the way I felt around you was different than other people, even if I was much slower at figuring out why."

He continued to say that he'd lived with the confusion of it all until he'd had this discussion with Trowa one time during the first war, back when they'd been hanging out a lot. Trowa had apparently been trying to dig Heero's psyche or some shit because he was so goddamn impressed that Heero had the fucking balls to blow himself to hell like he had, and one way or another, Heero had just ended up spilling his guts. Heero said it was sort of liberating at the time; said he'd never had a chance to just... let it all out and have someone listen and kind of give a fuck. I knew exactly what he meant, even if a little, tiny part of me prickled with envy that Trowa was the one who got to hear Heero's life story first, and not me. But it didn't really last long, because I could kind of understand why -- especially when he started explaining the kinds of things he'd unloaded.

Still looking pretty damn hangdog, he told me how he'd confessed to Trowa how he had these certain fantasies about me that wouldn't leave him alone, and he couldn't understand why. Said he still sometimes thought about how he'd always used to wish that while we'd been dorming together at those boarding schools, I'd have gotten the urge to fuck him against the wall in the locker room showers. Or how he'd always been taunted with the desire to lure me into the cockpit of some MS and ride me right there in the pilot's seat, and how he secretly sometimes imagined what it would be like to be completely subservient to me -- how he wanted to be my pet. I can only wonder if Trowa was nearly as floored by these admissions as I was. I never would have thought Heero was such a kinky fucking bastard -- _especially_ when we were kids! It made me wonder where the hell those kinds of ideas even fucking spawned from, because for some reason, I just couldn't imagine Heero reading a fucking porn rag or something. Just didn't fit right.

Anyway, apparently Trowa just laughed his fucking ass off at Heero for nearly ten goddamn minutes before he could even say anything. Then he eventually asked Heero if he ever thought about other people like that -- asked if he ever wanted to kiss maybe Relena or even him -- and Heero said he remembered getting really pissed off and defensive about it when he told him fucking "NO!" And since Trowa's a bastard, of course he just fucking laughed again before he finally said, "Well, if you're not just looking for a good lay, then maybe you love him."

Heero said a lot of things suddenly clicked for him once Trowa said that -- maybe kind of like how a bunch of things were suddenly starting to click for me right now. All I could do was to grab Heero into another one of those tight embraces and hold him close while I breathed his scent and told him how much I fucking loved him, even if I was the biggest fucking douchebag on the planet. And, like a goddamn hurricane or some shit, I found just holding him like that was enough to suddenly flood my head with images of how we'd been the night before: the way he'd so easily shrugged off his clothes and helped me free myself of mine before I'd carried him to bed; the way our shapes had melted into shadows in the moonlight and the soft way he whimpered my name like it was the only word he knew.

He held me firmly and said I had to stop fucking insulting myself like that, but I didn't quite get what he meant. Sometimes I figured that Heero saw a bunch of things about me that just plain flies right the fuck over my head, but I guess maybe that stuff is why he likes me at all, 'cause to be frank, if it were me, I'd have ditched my ass a long time ago. Maybe that's why I was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he loved me as much as I loved him. Guess I never thought there'd be anything someone like Heero would see in a piece of shit bastard like me.

He didn't speak at first when I voiced my thoughts, so I let go and told him he should just never mind and forget I even said anything at all. Beneath the creak of the shit springs in the mattress practically drowned him out, he whispered something, but his voice warbled a little and he trailed off, leaving me to wonder what he was trying to say. He always seemed so fragile when we got to talking about things like this -- almost like he was timid or afraid of something -- but it was anybody's guess as to why, 'cause I had this feeling it wasn't something I ought to ask.

He seemed to be regrouping his thoughts. I could see it in his face that he was getting frustrated with the words, though in my heart of hearts, I knew it probably had more to do with the fact that I'm a fucking moron than any fault of his. He tried again: "Even when I was an orphan and all by myself, I knew what love was, even if I didn't think it was anything that I deserved to ever experience one day. I think I was lying to myself -- lying for a good, long time! But I had no vision back then -- was so naively blind. Who'd have thought that I'd been searching so long for that certain kind of peace, and all this time, you were right there in my sights." He was leaning against the headboard, hugging his knees against his chest in such a way that made me think of the fifteen year old I'd met so long ago, despite the maturity twenty-seven years of life had endowed upon his naked body.

I cleared my throat and dared to sidle closer to him, wanting now just to feel his presence there. "You should have told me earlier," I said lamely. "You should have told me years ago."

He smiled serenely and leaned his head against my shoulder, and I felt my heart flutter with excitement at the show of affection. "Maybe you should have," he said, and not for the first time, he left me fucking speechless.

He then explained to me what kinds of things he and Hilde had been writing to each other about, and was I actually able to listen to it without feeling the urge to snap her in half, which I was personally really proud of. Then, I suddenly felt really guilty for flipping out the way I did when I'd first gotten wind of it, probably because the truth of it all was miles away from what I'd perceived. I guess I'd just been so sure they'd started some kind of little gossip circle or some shit -- scared that Solo had been right the whole fucking time, and that Heero was just leading me around on some kind of fucking leash for kicks. It hurt to think about it, but I let the pain overwhelm me because I figured I fucking deserved it for all the shit I'd caused, anyway.

"Duo, it's not your fault," he insisted when he'd noticed that I was starting to get really fucking upset about it and all. "It's okay for a person to feel cornered and scared and uncertain -- it's not wrong." He held me closer, and my arms sought to wire themselves around him as well.

I asked him then how come it felt like I'd made enough mistakes to damn me at least fifty times over, and he only held me tighter -- petted my hair and stroked my cheek.

"Duo, if we were all perfect, we'd go through life without ever really learning anything," he said, leaning his chin on my shoulder so he could see my eyes. He had this sincere look to him that made me wonder how I could have ever doubted him. "What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and who we are now builds our life for tomorrow."

I asked him who he thought he was today, and he said that nothing made him happier than knowing he was mine. To this, I could only fold him into my arms again. I guided him onto his back, kissed him soundly and gave his fantasies life once again.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 08 / 30 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in another hand]

You know, I should be fucking pissed at you for bailing on the speedballs you promised, especially since you ended up ditching me just so you could tumble that blue-eyed bitch of yours. But you know, I'm gonna take this like the nice guy I am and pat you on the back instead, D, 'cause I gotta say, I was really fucking starting to call your judgment into question, here. I'm reassured to know you still know a good piece of ass when you fucking see it. I mean, who'd have seriously thought that bitch would be such an eager slut?

Still, it's no fucking fair that you get to play, and all you'll let me do is stand around and fucking watch. I mean, it's your own goddamn affair and all, but if you're going to make such a big fucking production out of it, letting him scream and moan like that while he's on your cock, then you're pretty much giving out an open invitation to the show. Though for the record, I do like the way he begs. I'd keep him down on his fucking knees all the fucking time if he was calling _me_ master like that.

So, how'd you manage to get him in the sack like that, anyway? The fucker seemed about as friendly as a goddamn cactus, but from what I saw, the cock-starved little slut couldn't keep his hands -- or his pretty little mouth -- off of you. I bet you could have gotten him to do anything you fucking wanted -- so make sure you fucking take advantage of that, or I might have to step in for you.

And while we're on the subject, next time you fuck his throat, make sure he fucking finishes the job and swallows _all_ of it. He'll never learn his goddamn place if you don't fucking enforce it, D. Especially if you keep letting him play with your hair while you're at it; gives him the wrong fucking idea. Maybe he'll get the message if you fucking tie him up next time. Though I bet the damn slut would like it, anyway.

Oh, that reminds me of another fucking thing. How come you hold him so goddamn gently when you're dicking him? And why do you bother sucking him off or any of that shit? Seems just fucking weird to me -- made it seem like you actually gave a fuck if he was enjoying it. Like you actually thought he was fucking special! What the fuck is that, D? That shit don't fucking matter! You should take his ass, throw him down wherever you feel horny enough to fuck it and hold him there 'til you're through with your fun whether he likes it or not. You're the fucker in charge! When you gonna explain to him that _your_ pleasure is _his_ pleasure, end of story, and if he's screaming, you'll give him a couple smacks 'til he learns his goddamn lesson. Or gag him up with your cock or something. I mean, I know you been letting the idea of fucking him rule you for a goddamn long time, but there ain't no need to make him feel like he's your goddamn equal or some shit. You don't need any of that bullshit to slow you down, seriously.

Just don't fucking forget next time you plan on ditching me: bros before hos. That is, unless you plan on sharing. You got that, _bro_?

\-- Solo

\- -

Letter drafted 9 / 2 / AC207  
From H.Y. to S.P.

Dear Sally,

As of the past month or so, Hilde and I have been exchanging letters, and it came to my attention through her that you two were fast friends. Her mention of you reminded me of your medical expertise, so I asked her for your contact information. I sincerely hope you don't mind my seeming forwardness with what I'm about to tell you.

I don't know how much Hilde knows or has told you about what happened with Duo, but suffice to say that after he left L2, I managed to track him down on Earth. However, I found him in less than desirable shape. Peacetime wasn't unkind to him, but I think he had trouble handling the change. I do think he's getting better at quelling his addictions, but it's taking a bit of a toll on him in a rather acute way. One moment, he'll be skittish, jumping at shadows and constantly looking over his shoulder, and another, he'll be almost unnaturally aggressive and volatile. But I'm no medic, and I feel the situation is out of my league.

For instance, just the other day, he wanted to [make lo] share some time with me, alone, but when we settled down in his room, he went out of his way to make sure the bedroom door was locked and bolted, even though there isn't anyone else living in the apartment that could have interrupted us. He even checked the window and dropped the blinds, too -- and kept taking a pause to listen with a care that reminded of our old infiltration days, [even in the middle of ] I didn't say anything to him about it, but it did strike me as odd, worrisome and exemplary of how he's been conducting himself as of late. It frightens me to think of the catalyst that's rooted itself in his head -- or how long it's had to fester.

Still, I'm confident that the Duo I know now is the same Duo I always have, but it gives me physical pain to see how he's put up with this internal struggle for so long. Though I finally got up the nerve to reach out to him, and I can see him straining as far as he can to reach back, he sometimes seems to have trouble grabbing a hold of my hand.

Any suggestions or advice you may have for me would be much appreciated. If I can manage to get Duo away from this mess he's burrowed himself into, I want to be sure he can get any help he needs from someone he trusts. I want him to belong to himself again, and it is of the utmost importance if he's ever going to win his confidence and self-esteem back. You were our friend in the past; please be our friend now.

Most sincerely,  
Heero Yuy

\- -

Entry dated 9 / 4 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

[written in another hand]

God fucking dammit, D! What the hell has been up with you for the past few days, man? You seriously think I'm gonna play third wheel like this? Fuck you! Do you have any goddamn clue what the hell it's like to be stuck bumming around and listening to you fuck him behind closed doors like you do? Having to stand outside and listen to every little moan and sigh -- it was making me goddamn hard and even more fucking pissed off that you won't let me have my way with him, too. He ain't a very quiet little slut, is he? With all that damn racket, I bet you didn't hear me banging on the goddamn door and telling you to either let me in or shut the fuck up, did you?

Oh, and by the way, the 'hood is starting to wonder what the fuck is up, too, D, just so you're goddamn aware. They been noticing that all you do is stay locked up with your dumb whore and they don't like being fucking snubbed, especially with how much they go out of their fucking way for you. We're not goddamn idiots, you know. We can see the way you look at him like you're his goddamn slave. You better fucking tell him to watch that pretty little ass of his, because we ain't gonna settle for letting him steal you away like this. Maybe we'll let those damn blue boys sniff around on a longer leash next time they come poking 'round here if you don't fucking watch it. No one's got to keep protecting you if you ain't willing to do anything to deserve it, you know.

And speaking of, as if that wasn't bad enough, what the _fuck_ were you doing last night, letting _him_ be the one in control? I'll tell you, don't you go getting all fucking submissive on me, D, or I won't be very goddamn happy. You know I'm just as goddamn on the ball as you, so don't you go getting cocky and thinking that you _can_ do that shit without me figuring it the fuck out. I can see what the hell you're up to, but I sure hope you know better than that: it ain't so easy to replace me, and you fucking know it.

\-- Solo

\- -

Entry dated 9 / 6 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I tried to stab Solo in the neck today, but it didn't work very well. I ended up just hurting my fucking hand again, and now my knife is just about permanently embedded in the wall by the sofa. All the tugging in the goddamn world isn't getting that fucker out, that's for damn sure. God, no one understands. It's not easy having to listen to your fears all the goddamn time. It's like... like a bullet with butterfly wings.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Letter drafted 9 / 8 / AC207  
From H.Y. to S.P.

Dear Sally,

Thank you for your hasty response to my last letter; I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding when I received it. I guess sometimes I just don't think I'm strong enough to help save him from himself. And though I know it's something only Duo will be able to overcome, it comforts me to know that he doesn't have to work through this alone if he doesn't have to -- that there are people who are willing to make up for what I lack.

You told me to provide you with more specifics regarding Duo, but to be honest, I'm not sure what else I can tell you besides what I've been able to observe at a distance. He did seem to be going through a period of serious substance abuse, but as I mentioned before, I think he's been able to repress those urges -- at least, since I've been here, anyway -- even if the effects of it still seem to be present. I wish I could provide you with an exact list of what he had been using, but to be honest, I could never be sure. He's mentioned 'chasing the dragon' a few times, but for all I know, that's only the beginning.

He still concerns me a little, though. Yesterday, he completely fell apart, and I don't even have any clue as to what might have triggered the breakdown. It wasn't like the last time he got angry, when there was a specific catalyst, but more like he just snapped -- like all his darkness and rage that had been bubbling beneath the surface just over-boiled and consumed him. There was something in his eyes I didn't recognize -- like they were eyes that didn't even belong to Duo at all. He grabbed me and held me down and was saying the most uncharacteristic, _uncomfortable_ things -- all the while talking about himself as if 'Duo' was somebody else entirely. And though we've been [intimate] close, especially over the course of the past few weeks, I felt the need to fight him off as if he were planning to do something very unsavoury. I'm still not quite sure what stopped him in the end. Maybe it was hearing the constant repetition of his name from me -- or so I like to think. I know some days he feels like dying, but I just want my old Duo back, that's all; the stranger makes me uneasy.

Mentioning that, by the way, reminds me of another thing I should probably discuss with you, which is Duo's constant talk of his friend, Solo. When I first came here and heard him refer to him, I was very confused, because from what Duo had told me in the past, it was to my understanding that Solo had been dead for a long time. However, Duo still talks about him as if he's a third roommate -- one whose actions seem to echo a lot of Duo's fears. But his lack of presence here goes beyond whether he exists anywhere outside of Duo's head right now, though: it makes me wonder if he ever even existed at all.

Anyway, I will do my best to keep you updated.

Regards,  
Heero

\- -

Article dated 9 / 9 / AC207  
Written for 'The Chicago Daily Tribune'

Fire and Riot Continues to Rage Through Chicago Neighbourhoods

CHICAGO, IL -- With no recent occurrences involving revolutionary leader Pink, it was generally thought that perhaps his movement was dying down as the authorities come closer and closer to him with each passing day. However, the turmoil wracking the neighbourhood where most of his followers reside seems to suggest something more like turmoil from within.

In just the past week, there have been three reported arson attacks and countless instances of violence and vandalism that extends well above and beyond the early, decorative efforts of Pink's graffiti, which can be attributed to the birth of his notorious reputation. Though never particularly safe, the area has now managed to become one of the most dangerous parts of the city.

Lieutenant Colin McTaz, the head of investigation regarding Pink, speculates that Pink's followers are growing impatient and have become too extreme for even him to handle. "The local gangs are all at odds with each other," McTaz said. "Any fragile alliances they may have struck up with Pink as their central figurehead are starting to fray, and the result is this chaos."

McTaz hopes that the deterioration of Pink's leadership will help in the Preventers' bid to unmask him. He is, however, unsure if any measures can be taken against him, considering that his demonstrations have been, for the most part, peaceful. He adds, however: "If it does somehow turn out that Pink and Heero Yuy had formed some kind of alliance, then the circumstances are very likely to change."

He elaborated that an unnamed source from the Pink neighbourhood had provided a "very well-informed tip" that Yuy was indeed hiding in that part of the city. "The change in Pink's behaviour may have something to do with Yuy's presence," the lieutenant also speculates. "If Yuy has that much sway over Pink, then our theory that the two have some kind of connection may prove correct after all. We're examining the whereabouts of Yuy's known friends and contacts -- starting, of course, with the Gundam pilots and their allies from the wars."

McTaz declined to comment further on the details of the case, but it is likely that those things will come out as soon as the Preventers can confirm them. "The situation is delicate," was the explanation McTaz gave. "There is no telling what kind of response we'll get to any singular course of action, especially in such an unstable zone. For all we know, the mess has been caused because Pink somehow managed to slip out the back door."

This raises a whole new streamline of questions as to what will happen next. Without Pink, it is clear that his old haunt will crumble, and yet, the knowledge that he's quieted his urge to stir up trouble is also somewhat relieving. And though there is no guarantee that his silence is permanent, we can at least keep high hopes that he's moved on to terrorize another place, leaving the Windy City in peace at last.

\- -

Entry dated 9 / 10 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Solo died again today. I killed him, just like I did before, with my bare fucking hands. But I can't decide if it makes things okay or not -- if it's really something new, or if I'm just back to fucking square one. I think I may have lost more than I won. In this state of mind, it feels like my own, private suicide. Was I wrong to? Maybe it's just proof I've run too far to ever fucking get home.

See, it happened like this. I think the bastard knew I'd had it out for him. Things were really starting to fall apart all over the place, but if something happened to Heero because of it, I knew I'd never fucking forgive Solo. Not that he ever really had my forgiveness in the first place. He'd been clawing more desperately to keep a goddamn foot in my head, and he'd stopped being so careful anymore. I didn't care, though: recklessness makes you fucking stupid, and I think I'd know that better than fucking anybody. But then again, I've always been nuts, I know I have. Though it's very hard to explain why you are, even if you're not.

But still, the way he'd been acting is the same goddamn selfish way he used to run our L2 gang and it was making me fucking sick. I knew he was fucking livid that I'd made it clear I'd sooner stick my neck out for Heero before I'd even think of doing the same for him, but he needed to get over the fact I didn't want to be the same self-centered prick he was. Sweetness doesn't often touch my face, and I wouldn't fucking risk losing it because goddamn Solo's got me down wrong.

I mean, the rat bastard didn't fucking care about anybody other than himself, and that wasn't how I wanted to roll. I more or less let him know that the last time I tried to chase him off. Drove me nuts the way he'd lash out with all these excuses and all this goddamn rage, blaming all his goddamn pain on the rest of the fucking world, and I was just getting really fucking tired of that constant pull of love, hate, love. But even I knew he was just a fucking crutch for when you dream so big, there's no hope of ever being fucking happy -- that he always had been. You know, like a spark in the night you can't help but follow to hell because it's the only bright thing you can fucking see. And when you're hurt, he'd show the fuck up without any shame to lead you right off the goddamn cliff, just like he had when I was orphaned and alone. Well, there I was on the edge, and I didn't feel like fucking jumping anymore. It took me goddamn long enough, but I'd finally decided I was fucking done with hiding and disguising the truths I'd sold.

But all that had been building up for a while. When it actually happened, I hadn't been really preparing for it or anything -- not like when I'd tried to get him with the fucking knife and just ended up hurting my goddamn self instead. Nah, this time, I'd just been sitting on the bed, trying to tie up my shoes, when I heard the dickwad start on one his stupid spiels about Heero. But I was anything but in the fucking mood to put up with that shit, and I let him fucking know it too and then went back to ignoring him like he wasn't even fucking there anymore.

Of course, bastard as Solo was, he wasn't fucking born yesterday or nothin'. He just held up his hands in this fucking defensive way started saying more shit he knew would get me pissed off enough to pay attention to him again. "Didn't you ever hear the name of the game, boy?" he taunted, though I couldn't quite tell where from. "We call it riding the gravy train."

And since my temper always fucks me over in the end, I let it get to me, and went to snap at him that he didn't even know who I fucking was and how dare he say that shit? But when I looked up, there was nobody even fucking there. But I guess being alone just made me a really easy fucking target.

I was just about to go back to my goddamn business, but the fucker just couldn't leave me alone. His stupid voice came back with more mockery, and then I knew he was just out to piss me off so bad, I'd do something dumb. He kept fucking singing like, "Nobody likes you; everyone left you. They're all out without you, having fun!" That shit really struck a nerve: I'd fucking had enough. This life-like dream wasn't fucking for me -- not anymore -- and I just wanted out.

My whole fucking body jerked up and I found him laughing at me from behind the graffiti I'd covered the mirror by the window with -- right there, where Heero had scraped off a bunch of the paint so the dumb thing was actually useful. Jumped to my feet and nearly tripped over my damn shoelaces, but I was too goddamn mad to care as I charged the fucker with my fists swinging. "My head's not a vault for you and all your goddamn problems!" I shouted as my knuckles cracked into the glass. I saw him wince a little, and it just served to fucking egg me on with my assault. "Get out! I hate it! I hate it!"

Both my hands were bleeding a bitch as the glass fell out of the frame and onto the floor, but I was too full of fury to even give a shit. Some of the glass bits crunched and flew into my face but I hardly noticed any of the fucking cuts, because he was still taunting me with that stupid song from the goddamn shards on the ground. I started fucking stepping on them, though that really didn't do all too fucking much, so I went grasping for something else to use. First thing I found that I thought would do the fucking job once and for all was the lighter jammed into my pocket. I knew that would freak the shit out of him: he'd seen me with fire before, and I think he figured a little too fucking late that he was about to get his own goddamn knife in the face with this one. Seemed like divine irony to me, anyway.

Maybe I was a little mad with desperation -- I don't know -- but I wasn't really thinking straight about it anymore. "Done, done -- done and on with my life once and for all," I was muttering as I flipped the lighter with this manic grin on my face. I wanted him to taste all the goddamn fear and misery he'd ruled me with for so long in his last moments before I smoked his ass out of my head at long fucking last. "I ain't gonna keep hanging as low as you go forever, buddy. Ain't my fucking scene anymore, and I'm tired of you."

The floor was old and wooden, so it didn't take too much fucking work to coax the flame just right. One look at Solo's face in the glass chips -- the fear and the resentment -- I knew it was finally fucking happening. It felt like I was partaking in some kind of fucking cleansing ceremony and it felt so goddamn liberating -- like I was overcoming the confines of this world that was keeping me fucking chained to the ground. Didn't even see the smoke rising, or notice the way the fire had crept close to the end of my hair -- the way it was starting to singe and tender it. Not until I heard Heero shouting at me from somewhere that seemed really far away.

He flew in out of fucking nowhere and tackled me to the ground like he was taking down a fucking rugger. Rolled me out of the way, but I guess I wasn't satisfied that Solo had choked yet, because I kept clawing to get away from him and back to the spot where I'd been crouching before. The fire was spreading and I could hear fucking Solo yelling every goddamn obscenity he knew, but I wanted to watch it -- wanted to watch him suffer like I had suffered... to make sure he knew that Death always fucking came out on top, no matter what kind of fucking delusions he thought he was master of.

"You gotta let me the fuck go, Heero! I gotta make sure I've won it back for good this time! Otherwise, he'll never, never let us go and we'll never be fucking happy!" I was gasping, wrestling my way out of his arms, even as he kept grabbing to pull me back. He was shouting for me to get a grip -- to see reason! -- but I don't think he had a fucking clue that for the first time, I was seeing with the utmost fucking clarity.

I was straining back for my little funeral pyre with my lighter extended forward so I could just throw it the fuck in there and let the whole thing blow up once and for all, but Heero was like a goddamn anchor on my other hand. He had one of his hands clamped tightly around the bicep of the lighter arm and he was working real fucking hard to try and knock the damn thing away, but I flicked it on again and used it to keep his hands off. Then I gave this real rough jerk, but the whole thing fucking backfired on me, and with a smoke-filled cough, I suddenly realized what I'd done.

It was like one of those movie scenes where everything suddenly flows in slow fucking motion and all the sound is sucked out of the place like someone came in with a big fucking jar and trapped it all inside. The lighter flew out of my hand as I stumbled backwards and tripped over my own goddamn shoelaces, landing somewhere on the other side of the room and teasing the sheets hanging off the fucking bed with its little head of fire. I crashed into Heero's chest, and that sent him staggering back a bit. But whereas I landed on my fucking ass, the sound of more splintering glass signified a different fate for Heero, and I turned the fuck around just a second too late -- just in time to see him fall backwards... right through the fucking window.

The slow motion snapped away, and I was suddenly on my fucking feet again, gasping for air as the room became even fucking smokier. But I hardly gave a shit, because all I could think about was what had happened to Heero and how overwhelmed with guilt I was that, in the goddamn end, I had been the one to do him in after all. I remember seeing the big goddamn hole in the window where he'd gone through and only being able to think about the fucking television set I'd hurled through the one in the main room before he'd kissed me that first time.

Then I blacked out, and I don't remember anymore.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 9 / 11 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I'm not sure what happened after the fire -- who put it out or who found me and Heero or any of that -- but I have to be goddamn sure to thank Old Lady Waters for keeping it all on the down low. She's been letting me take it easy in her apartment while we figure out what to do about Heero, who's still been out fucking cold since he fell down those four fucking stories yesterday. She let me move the armchair in her room closer to his bedside, and she hasn't made a big deal about the fact I haven't really budged from the spot since I first settled the fuck down here. She may have been more ancient than dirt, but the lady's no fucking moron, either. Solo had used to say that everybody fucking knew right off when me and Heero started shacking up, but for some reason, I got the impression the old lady didn't judge it the same way all those other fuckers did. Unless she's just smart enough to know when to keep her goddamn mouth shut -- knew that if she said anything I didn't like about Heero, I wouldn't hesitate to wring her neck, nevermind she's already got one foot in the goddamn grave anyway.

I couldn't tell if I ought to be depressed by Heero's current state or not, though. I mean, I was thankful he wasn't fucking dead, but I had no idea if he was going to be waking up any time soon, either and it scared the fuck out of me. He hadn't gotten any of the burns I had, but then again, all I had to fucking deal with was the lacerations in my knuckles and across my face, and regrowing the two inches of singed hair I had to trim off the bottom of my braid. He'd gotten all that times about a hundred, I think. Plus a few broken bones, probably some bruised ribs and a concussion that kept him dreaming.

Good news is that the building didn't get fucking razed or nothin', and the worst that happened was pretty much confined to my old bedroom. Not that I really even give much of a fuck anymore, because something told me I wouldn't be going back up there, anyway, but I'd have probably felt really fucking guilty if the old lady's livelihood had gotten fucked because of my goddamn idiocy.

It's raining today, and I think it's probably God taking pity on me with a few heavenly tears to make me feel better about all my fuck-ups. Or maybe it was the angels weeping for Heero -- weeping with me. Maybe, somehow, he'd hear it and know that he really was missed and loved and wanted. I kept wanting to reach over and brush his dirty hair out of his closed eyes, or to bathe his cheeks with kisses, but to be honest, I was damn scared to -- scared like I didn't think I even deserved to lest those same fucking angels strike me down for my sin.

I didn't, though. Deserve to touch him, that is. I couldn't believe I'd let this trick me so -- something that was always there but I wasn't quite getting, and now I could see so fucking well, I was ashamed it had taken me so goddamn long to understand. Heero had quite literally bent over backwards for me, taking all the rage I had to shower upon him until it finally just broke him. I couldn't believe how goddamn moronic I really was, thinking how I was so much fucking better than Solo, when the whole time, I was just as goddamn selfish in the end. I took and I took and I gave nothing back to Heero, whose only request was that I love him. And I did but... but there's more to it than just the words -- more than just the things you could see. That's what I was starting to really fucking get, see. It was time for me to give to Heero -- to show him I wanted to be there for him in his darkest hour, too.

Goddamn, but who would have ever thought that emptiness like this could be so goddamn heavy? All I can think of to do for now to pass the time is to sleep or to keep writing stuff down as it come to mind, really, or else I start getting really annoyed and frustrated and stuff. Even looking outside at the moon doesn't help, because I start thinking to myself about how there isn't really any dark side of the moon at all. Really, I think it's just all dark.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 9 / 21 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Should have figured there was going to be a downside to getting Sally to help me and Heero out. I forgot that she and Hilde were so damn tight, see. Is it terrible that I'd almost wished Old Lady Waters hadn't brought up the fact that she'd heard Heero mention her a few times? Because if she hadn't, then Hilde wouldn't have figured out where the hell we are. It was one of those things I'd been trying to avoid as long as fucking possible -- forever, if I could.

Well, really, I shouldn't say shit like that, because Sally came through like a fucking angel from on high. Four or so days after the fire and still no improvement in Heero had me really fucking edgy. I think the old lady could tell, because I wasn't even getting up for food anymore in case Heero would happen to stir while I was gone. So one day, while she was sitting with me in the bedroom, she brought up the possibility of getting Heero to a doctor.

I'd said, "Abso-fucking-lutely not," because I was paranoid that bringing him to a hospital would just get the whole lot of us in a bunch of trouble, and I didn't feel like putting up with that on top of all the other goddamn problems I already had to deal with. She asked if I was sure there wasn't a single safe place to bring him, because frankly, she thought Heero wouldn't turn out too fucking hot if we just left him lying around like we were. Waiting wasn't doing anything to help, she said. I guess there was something to that saying that wisdom comes with age or whatever the hell it was. That's about when she mentioned Sally.

I felt like such a goddamn snoop going through Heero's stuff looking for any letters he might have received from the good doctor, and I guess I was, because I guess I did a little bit more than just skim through his shit. Reading those letters he'd so painstakingly written out to Hilde and all the rest just fucking ripped my heart out. I wanted to curl up and die as the guilt just throbbed inside with more vibrancy.

Anyway, I eventually did come across Sally's contact info, and I didn't waste a goddamn second dropping her a line. I know Sally was another one of those who lived life by the seat of her fucking pants, but I'm pretty sure I was the last person she expected to ever fucking hear from again. I didn't really give a shit what she thought and I was sure to be really up front about the situation. Told her to get her fucking ass down here as quick-like as she could or I'd fucking track her down and bring her here my goddamn self. Said that no matter what kind of shit Hilde had tried to say about me, she should just turn a blind fucking eye for the sake of more important things.

But it didn't come down to any of that shit, because within two days, there she was on the doorstep with one of those portable med cases in hand. She still pretty much looked the same -- same height and hair and all -- though now she wore glasses, and it was sort of weird seeing her sporting something other than a uniform. Guess I shouldn't have gotten so fucking worked up about her -- I mean, it was _Sally_, after all -- but I can't really say that rationality or any of that shit has exactly been at the front of my brain lately -- even with people I should fucking know better about. Anyway, I was just glad she managed to show up real quick -- and with a sense of discretion. I guess some habits just never fucking die, right?

Sally's a smart lady, and I had all the fucking faith in the world in her (kind of had to at this point, at any rate), but I appreciated that she kept her questions limited really only to the current situation. I know she wasn't dumb enough to think that all the bandages and shit I had on weren't just there for fucking decoration or something. I even wonder if she was thinking anything about how I kept lurking around the bed, even while she was unpacking her little hospital-in-a-box and had long since finished up her little interrogation about what was what. I bet Hilde had told her all about me and her and Heero and that whole fucking thing. Not that I really even gave a shit if she had, because either way, she was keeping her mouth shut and I liked it that way.

Anyway, it didn't take her long to set up shop, and I have to say, even I was pretty goddamn impressed with all the little gizmos she had packed away in that case thing of hers. If it weren't for the blatant old lady touch in the bedroom, I might have guessed we were in a real hospital. I'll tell you, though, gross as it sounds, there really aren't words to describe how much better I felt even just watching her needle that IV into Heero's arm. The constant drip-drip of it might as well have been the sound of his goddamn heart beating. Or would it be mine?

Sally said she'd hang out for a few days to keep an eye on him, and that made me feel even better. Maybe she could tell what the fuck was going on between me and Heero, but I didn't want to think about it, because that would have meant admitting that Solo had been right about something else. Old Lady Waters made chicken potpie and me and Sally spent the whole time catching up on stupid shit that no one really cared about until somebody called her cell and she wandered off with that. Sure, it _did_ feel like we just were ignoring the fat fucking elephant in the room, but even for a little bit, that was kind of nice.

Though she did mention Wufei, which was a bit interesting, because I'd been noticing his name in the papers a lot lately. I guess they were still friends, too, and it made me realize just _how_ fucking cut off I'd been for the past bunch of years, because when I thought back, I found I couldn't really say the same for most of my war buddies. Anyway, she said he was getting a lot of media attention for this whole big brouhaha over Heero and all the Pink stuff, and that Relena was making it her new big thing to speak on his behalf. I was glad to hear the guy had the balls to drag the whole fucking thing out to the high courts, because that meant there was a good chance all this shit would come leaking out at the seams regarding what a cock-up job the new Ministry was doing. And, truth be told, a part of me let out a quiet sigh of relief that Pink wouldn't have to take that weight on his shoulders anymore. Not now that he'd finally found something far more important to fight for.

The next day or so found Heero improving quite a bit. He'd woken up again, and though far from being at 100%, I could tell having Sally around was gonna make his recovery that much smoother. Kind of just assaulted me in the face that even Heero goddamn Yuy wasn't totally invincible. And you know, it might sound weird, but it was sort of relieving to see that he was just as human as any of us.

Sally was nice and let me have some time with him when he came to. He propped himself up against the pillows and smiled at me, and I found myself amazed by how easily he could make the world stand still without even having to say a word. I wanted to hug him so fucking bad, it hurt, but I was still afraid to touch him. I tried to rationalize it by telling myself that I was just concerned about making his other injuries worse, but I knew the truth of it had everything to do with that dirty sense of unworthiness that had been plaguing me since the fire. So instead, I just smiled too, sputtering, "Welcome back, Heero," or something equally mundane. He probably thought I sounded like a fucking idiot.

But it didn't seem to bother him all too much. Immediately, he was asking if I was alright -- if everything was going to be okay. I got up the nerve to reach for his hand as I assured him that it was, and only then did it occur to me what a big difference the touch made in his demeanor -- saw how he was physically uplifted by it! -- and I felt even more retarded than before. I was failing life with flying colours, it seemed, but I think I was just too fucking overwhelmed with relief to really be able to come up with anything smart to say, so I didn't try.

Heero was squeezing my hand really fucking tightly, and I remember thinking how it was my turn to be his anchor. He was pulling it close to his chest like he meant to gather me as close to him as he could, and though I should have maybe said something about him being careful of his injuries, I have to admit I was more intent on the feel of his skin on mine -- his presence and his warmth -- to really think of anything practical like that.

He said he's missed me like he'd missed me for all the years we'd been apart and in that instance, I swore I was going to just lose it and break down right there. I just couldn't carry the weight of my own goddamn pride anymore: there was just no sense in trying to pretend like he didn't mean as much to me as he did. And even if I sucked at expressing it most of the time, I really, really hoped he knew that.

"I swear to God I'll never do anything that fucking stupid ever again," I promised him with all the seriousness in the world. I held his hand just as fiercely and asked if he could ever forgive a fool.

And he just cocked his head curiously to the side and blinked at me for a few seconds, before carefully lifting my fingers to his lips. He kissed them and mumbled into my palm that I had nothing to be sorry for.

"But it was my fault you fell out the window!" I exclaimed, all the while hoping my grip wasn't enough to crush his hand. Reminded him how I nearly killed the one I loved because I still gave into my fears as easily now as I did when I was a brat. Because I was so _weak_.

He seemed a little taken aback at this statement and regarded me carefully again, his fingers flexing a little in my fist. And then he cocked his head in that thoughtful way again and said in this really slow, confused voice that he didn't quite remember anything like _that_.

I could have sworn my heart exploded -- right there in my fucking chest! -- when I heard that. I dropped his hand and stared back, though I'm sure my face was all incredulous and full of disbelief and stuff. Then I felt the panic set in -- felt it grab me and rattle me 'til my bones were clacking up against each other in the most unnatural way. Then I nervously excused myself and sped out of the room in search of Sally like a man on a goddamn mission.

I dragged her away from some stupid fucking soap to Heero's bedside and told her what had happened and that I was freaked out that maybe Heero was losing his memory or something. I'd heard horror stories about concussions sometimes having really shitty long-term effects and it made me nervous and afraid to think that I'd lost Heero so soon after winning him. The thought of trying to figure out what to do without him seriously scared the fuck out of me. I said to myself, "I bet Solo will come back the instant Heero's gone and this time, no one will be there to save me." Because really, when I thought about it, I knew that sucking void in my life couldn't be filled by anyone nearly as much as Heero did. Maybe it was something I'd just inherently knew -- something I could actually _feel_ from the roots of my hair to my toes when they curled in my shoes. Maybe even something I'd known that from the second I'd first seen him that day on the docks: Heero was the one who had breathed life and love and excitement into my otherwise dying self: he made me realize it was okay to be me, and that I wasn't alone.

Anyway, Sally said I shouldn't worry -- that a little amnesia was perfectly normal, especially with a grade five concussion like the one Heero had. Still, just for my own peace of mind, she made sure to give Heero a quick physical, which I was really intent on scrutinizing -- that is, until Sally's cell rang for the bajillionth time. When it did, she was in the middle of checking Heero's reflexes and just absently asked me to answer it for her. Said it was a call she'd been waiting for all day or something, so I did. Wasn't too happy to hear the voice that greeted Sally from the other end of the line, though, because it belonged to none other than goddamn Hilde. I may have been over all that shit that went down with her, but I knew I was far from ready to talk to her.

"Is that... you, Duo?" she said slowly after realizing I wasn't Sally. She sounded surprised -- maybe even kind of confused -- to hear my voice. You'd think she'd given me up for dead and that I'd come back from the grave or some shit. "I wasn't sure if.... I mean, well... are you... okay?"

I told her I was fine probably a bit too quickly, because then we had this super awkward silence. Sally wasn't paying any fucking attention to me at all, and part of me almost wondered if she had _planned_ to pass off a phone call from Hilde to me like this. Eventually I cleared my throat and asked some lame thing about what she'd been up to lately.

She said she was okay too and that she'd sold the salvage yard; said she was kind of between jobs now, but at least had a decent gig working in some body shop for the time being. We went on like that for a bit with that same kind of boring, irrelevant conversation -- the sort you have when you have no idea what the fuck else to say. I told her I thought I'd managed to figure a few things out for myself, and she asked about Heero. At first I thought that was really weird and it made me get real prickly, because Heero was mine, not hers. Then I realized what a jackass I was for thinking something like that and tried hard to answer her like a normal person. "Well, he always was a... good friend," I told her, hesitant to address him as my best friend for fear of insulting her. A smile popped up as I added, "I guess I just never realized _how_ good."

Her answer actually kind of surprised me a little. "He really cares for you more than anybody," she said. There was a moment where she started to continue on like she was going to elaborate on that, but she second-guessed it and stopped. Instead, she said something along the lines of, "If you ever come home, he's always just as welcome."

My whole brain kind of went numb there for a second and I hesitated on my response probably just a moment too long. Home? Where was that? Despite this change in attitude towards Hilde, I was still pretty damn sure the unsettled feeling I'd had living with her and calling that house 'home' had been pretty fucking sound. Still wasn't sure what quite to say when I heard her mumble real soft, "I sure wish you would."

In front of me, Sally had taken the liberty of redoing the crude job I'd made of bandaging Heero's various injuries, but her patient didn't seem to even notice a thing she was doing. Instead, Heero was staring past her, over the foot of the bed and right at me. The clarity of what I suddenly realized the second I caught his eyes was almost physically jarring, and I found myself saying with this kind of distracted air, "And I'm sorry that I can't."

She kind of made this yelping noise, like she was trying real hard to stifle her reaction, and I got worried for a second that I'd gone and made her fucking cry. But it wasn't fair to try and sell it any other way, and I did my best to try and explain it. Told her she had to understand it wasn't anything I could help. "I've wasted so much of my life walking down the wrong road," I said in as gentle a voice as I could damn well muster. "But now I can see and I'm gonna start right now, right here, to make amends."

"If that were true, then why would you keep saying things that are so hurtful?" she wondered with this voice that made her sound like she had a goddamn bowling ball lodged in her throat. Didn't take me long to realize that I actually _had_ made her start to sob a little, but thinking on it, maybe it wasn't so bad for her to just let it all out. God knows I'd be a hypocrite to say she didn't have the right to, anyway.

The urge to say something scathing in reply stabbed at me like a knife in the dark, and I almost fucking did until I caught sight of Heero again. He wasn't looking at me, his attention this time focused on his forearm as Sally re-splinted the bones, but it was okay, because his mere presence was enough. So instead, I sighed and once again, found myself doing a really shitty job of trying to explain things to her. "Look, it's not like that, okay?" I said. "It's just... it's not like you're the only person I've hurt. There's other people who've had to help me bear my cross and I... I owe them just as much -- fuck, perhaps even more -- than what I owe you." She sucked in another one of those stifling yelps, which I'd finally recognized as one of those really deep gasps you make when you cry, but I wasn't quite finished, so I kept going. "Suffice to say, Hilde, maybe the only thing I can offer you is, 'I'm sorry'. I hope one day you'll... you'll understand that it's all I have left to give you... and that it'll be enough."

There was another pause. I expected her to bust out bawling real fucking loud, so by that point, I'd stepped out of the bedroom in case she did so Heero and Sally wouldn't hear, but she didn't. Instead, she just said in that real quiet, neutral tone of hers: "It's because of Heero, isn't it."

I didn't see any sense in trying to pretend otherwise, so I didn't. Not that anything I said was really news to her or anything, but maybe saying it then and there was the sort of closure we both needed for all this mess.

"Always Heero, huh," she whispered more to herself than me, I think. I just remember thinking how goddamn strange it was hearing her say his name so many times; there was a period where just mentioning it would have erupted into a war zone between us. Way a long time ago, I sometimes used to think that she was trying to seriously erase him out of her memory -- maybe mine too. Silly to try, really: once you knew him, there was no forgetting Heero Yuy. Not for me, anyway.

"Well," she said after a while, "just be sure to call if you ever change your...." She realized what she was about to say and quickly changed her tune: "I mean, if you ever want to visit, that's okay," she said. She took another deep breath that rasped loudly over the phone connection and then added, "I miss you, old buddy. I just wish we could sit down together -- wish we could be close again."

Something occurred to me right then that I was amazed I'd never quite thought of before. A guy like me didn't have all too many friends, right? And of that small handful of friends, I'd more or less fucked up or alienated a good portion of them. Really, that day I'd walked out on Hilde, I'd expected it to be over forever. I'd have bet everything I owned that we'd never speak again and that our friendship was something to lament over for a bit before completely forgetting it forever. But then it hit me how it wasn't so often that you got a second chance like this, you know? It was like the light of a new sun on a new day that let me see things I had lost sight of during the night. I was going to turn around to face it this time, I decided. All my life, I'd been a fool who always said I could just do it on my own. God knows how many good friends I've already lost because of all that goddamn bullheadedness.

I opened my mouth to say I hoped for the same thing, too, but found myself telling it to the dial tone. I looked down at the phone and stared at it dumbly as I wandered back into the bedroom, a little unsure if that conversation had been a good thing or not. I was so busy thinking about it, I nearly screamed and dropped the damn phone when Sally bumped me on her way out. I guess that conversation with Hilde had made me edgier than I'd thought.

Sally attempted some joke that I think was meant to make me feel better, but instead left me laughing kind of awkwardly. Instead, it was Heero's voice that soothed those damn nervous butterflies partying in my stomach. He was smiling at me from his nest of pillows on the bed, and it made me want to just melt on the spot, even when he was all wrapped up like a goddamn mummy. In an instant, I'd slammed Sally's mobile back into her damn hands, had strode right over to Heero's side and was giving Heero the indulgent kiss he deserved -- the one I needed.

And I didn't even give a fuck that Sally was standing there to watch the whole thing.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 9 / 28 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I read this article the other day in one of those hip magazines about Tro and Q the other day. They're just back from their honeymoon and the media's already on their cases. God, I remember when things were maybe a bit simpler, and the biggest thing anybody had to fuss about was how Quatre -- the big CEO -- came out of the closet and announced he wasn't just gay, but also _marrying_ another man. And then they had to all go and jump down poor Trowa's throat because it seemed like this whole fucking Cinderella kind of thing. I bet Trowa hated every goddamn second of that shit; he's a real private kind of guy, even around people he considers his friends.

I have to admit, at first I was kind of jealous of how fucking happy they got to be while I was off running into walls. I mean, like Trowa, for instance: what the fuck did he do that won him the golden ticket? His life had sucked just as much as mine or Heero's had, so what made him different? I got a little pissed off that for all the shit we'd been through, me and Heero didn't get that same kind of lucky break. Maybe that's just what happens when you fall in love with the king of heaven and earth, I guess, but I still thought that it was great proof of how goddamn unfair life could be.

Anyway, I showed the article to Heero to see what he'd say. (Sally had gone, and he was doing better now -- could at least hobble around on crutches a little bit, though nothing too, too strenuous.) I think I probably should have given him a bit of an explanation instead of just flinging the mag down in front of him, because he ended up just staring at it like it confused him before he looked up at me and asked, "Do you want to go to Mars, Duo?"

You know, maybe a few months ago, that kind of thing might have driven me nuts, but now, I just looked at it as being endearingly Heero and was warmed by the reaction instead. As for the thing, I'd kind of wanted to gauge his reaction on the honeymoon aspect of it all, but now that I was being met with the reality of it, I kinda got a little nervous about admitting that shit. So instead I played the coward and just kind of dodged the bullet by saying a meek, "Yeah, that's it...."

His eyes lit up a little and he immediately launched into this whole big spiel about how I'd probably really like it up there. "I would know," he insisted; "I've been living redside since the first phase of the Terra Project."

I only half listened, more preoccupied with thinking about what the media would do if they found out two _more_ Gundam pilots were stepping out, and also how cute it was that Heero got so enthused over something like Mars. Not that Mars was lame or anything -- I actually kind of dig the idea a lot -- but I can't say it would be something I'd geek out over. Then again, the fact that Heero _did_ was part of why I liked it in the first place. Especially because it insinuated he was okay with... you know, living together and all that. Besides, I liked just being able to hear the sound of his voice. I could listen to him read the ingredients off the back of a goddamn shampoo bottle and be enthralled. He just has this way of talking -- this whole entire way about him! Don't know what it is, but I guess there doesn't have to be a reason anyway.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 10 / 1 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

Things were settling down in the 'hood. Pink was yesterday's news, and no one really came around looking for me anymore. I think Old Lady Waters was giving some vague story about what had happened to me after the fire, and I had a feeling everybody had just assumed I'd been killed. Which was fine and fucking dandy with me, I have to say. Not sure what the sentiment about Heero was, to be honest, though. While not forgotten, I think we were at least a bit safer to move around as the public attention started to shift to other things. But I mean, does anyone really care if _nobody_ cares?

I think I'd had enough of all this shit, though. All this big stuff, the city -- the _mess_: I was just through with all of it. Didn't quite hit me until this morning, though, when I was stuck filling out paperwork after the cops picked me up for some petty shit. I don't think they realized who I was, because they let me off pretty easy and I was out of there within hours. I didn't tell Heero when I got back because I thought he'd be mad, but I did talk about the things the whole ordeal had made me think about.

I expressed how I was tired of having to conform to other people's rules and letting it all break me down. Told him how I was ready to start out with something that was mine -- something I wouldn't hate because it would come from _me_ and nobody else! I mean, all my life, I'd been running -- had been running since the second my feet fucking touched the ground -- and now I was out of breath. "I don't wanna stay here anymore," I said to him. "We gotta get out of here as soon as we can -- right now, even!"

That brightness overtook Heero's face again and he mentioned Mars again. "We should just go," he said. "I still have my place up there." There was something about the way he talked about it that made me feel like he'd just been waiting for the right moment to bring it up -- like it had been something he'd been thinking about for a really long time. Maybe even before he'd come to Chicago to find me. I got angry at myself thinking that I'd let that all nearly slip away.

I'm not sure how to describe what I felt as he spoke about it, though. It was like a joy that shivered down my spine and was so palpable, I could practically wrap my arms around it -- could taste it in my mouth! He was inviting me to stay with him -- to go _home_ with him. I wondered why that even mattered to me as much as it did, and then felt stupid that I'd even had to think about it when the answer finally came. It was more than just having a place to live: Heero was offering me a _life_ with him -- a place to belong. And I knew, right away, that there was nowhere else I'd ever want to be, because my home was there, with him.

I wanted to tell him all those things, but I still didn't have the words -- one of those indescribable moments I probably never would be able to really explain. Maybe that was alright. Maybe there were things you didn't always _have_ to talk about. I had this feeling that Heero probably didn't need me to, anyway. I just hoped I could continue to be the man I was supposed to be -- the one he loved.

You know, after all the uncommon things I'd lived through and all the things I'd tried to be, it was amazing how much I enjoyed discovering how _ordinary_ I was. How despite it all -- despite how hard it was to understand! -- the things I'd been searching so desperately for were actually really simple. And for the first time, I knew exactly where I was. I knew I was meant for this world -- that I could throw away those dreams and dare.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 10 / 21 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

The second I got a good look at those redside satellites, I knew I wouldn't miss L2 or Chicago ever again. I'd always been a spacer at heart, but the wars had kind of soured the thought of the La Grange colonies with this downer kind of nostalgia. I really liked the idea of being able to stay up with the stars, where I belonged, but without any of that damn baggage. I had the clothes on my back, Mellon Collie in my pocket, Heero at my side, and there wasn't anything else I could ever need. I was through living for tomorrow and dwelling on yesterday, when the most important thing was today.

Heero was still confined to casts for his broken bones, but they didn't seem to stop his excitement as our shuttle neared its Martian destination. He'd remind me for the hundredth time how much I was going to love it there and all the things that made living redside better than living anywhere else, but I didn't mind, because I still thought it was sweet. (Not that I'd ever tell him that!) I think being one of the first people to live up here was something he was secretly really proud of, though. Then again, I figured pioneering was something Heero would be into. After so much destruction, I think the prospect of cultivating something new in every sense was what really appealed to him. When I thought about it, I realized it really meshed with me, too.

Everything about Mars was clean and efficient and new, but that's not what impressed me the most when we finally got there. It was this sense of purpose that everybody seemed to have -- like they all realized that it was up to them to make this place worth living in. I remember suddenly feeling this excited flutter inside, impatient to jump right in there and be a part of it, too. And though the street underneath my feet was alien, following Heero back to his house seemed like a real homecoming.

The place Heero had been living in since the wars was a townhouse kind of deal on one of the more industrial satellites. He told me he had been working as a systems technician at the spaceport, doing maintenance and all that kind of shit for the shuttle computers and stuff, and that he'd see about getting me in on that, too. Really, I didn't care what sort of job I had here, just so long as it kept me on the ball. I kind of missed working with machines, and I think I'd almost forgotten how much I liked that kind of thing. I remembered what it was like when Heero and I used to do work on our Gundams together and the challenge of it all. God, those were fun times, despite the horrific situation they were backed by. The first time Heero let me do anything to Wing is still one of my proudest moments; I remember feeling like I'd finally managed to prove myself to him, and goddamn, I can't even begin to explain what his approval had meant to me at the time -- what it still means to me even now.

But before all that, we had a lot of things to take care of. Heero's house hadn't been lived in for almost a year, and it showed the second we flipped on the lights. There was a lot of stuff that had to be cleared out of there before anybody could really live there again, and the dust kept making me fucking sneeze. But you know, the thought of all that work didn't piss me off like it might have if I was still with Hilde. Instead, it was just another thing that Heero and I could build together -- another thing for us to share.

I took to exploring the place right away, and Heero kind of just tailed me to watch my reactions. Even in such disarray, I couldn't help but get excited, and I told him that it was the best house in the whole universe. And you know what? He _laughed_ at me! Laughed at me like Trowa had laughed at _him_. But even better, I laughed right along with him, even as I told him I couldn't have been any more serious about what I'd said.

"You don't change much, do you," he'd said somewhere during my inspection of the second floor. I got all huffy and asked him what the hell that was supposed to mean, but more just to be funny. He just shrugged and said it was nice to know there were things that would always stay the same, and I figured I wasn't getting much more of an answer out of him.

It was ridiculous, though, how goddamn excited I was. I felt like we were fifteen again and we were exploring some new hideout and it was just going to be the two of us. I guess, in a weird sort of way, it was the same kind of thing, since we'd snuck off to this place so no one would find us. Heero said no one here was interested in who you were or anything you'd done so long as you pulled your weight. And fuck if that wasn't something I wasn't prepared to do.

"But you like it, right? You're sure you really want to stay?" he'd asked when I'd finally been satisfied I'd poked through every nook and cranny the place had.

And because some things never change, and because I was just a big, dumb dork, the best answer I could give him was a nice wet one on the lips. I think it was one he was more than willing to accept, though. I told him I had no idea how he'd think otherwise. Things would turn out right, now. We would make it so.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Entry dated 11 / 4 / AC207  
Notebook journal of D.M.

I've found that I've taken easily to redside life, though I'm not sure if that was more to do with the fact that it was a natural fit for me, or because I had Heero there to help me. It hadn't taken us long to adapt to our new life here: we'd quickly picked up jobs, the house was slowly starting to become livable with each passing day, and the long and winding road didn't seem so damn impossible anymore. But then again, I guess the company really did make that much of a difference.

I was also quickly beginning to see why Heero was so attached to living up here, too. Coming here truly was like starting over with a blank slate: a place where all that mattered was making the present count for tomorrow. I'm not quite sure why, but I think it was because despite its status as part of the ESUN, Mars was still really removed from everything that went on down there. I'd heard through the grapevine that Wufei had managed to come out on top of all that shit flinging that had been going on, and also that Relena was pressing hard to get her foot back into the Ministry, but that was hardly big news up here. And though I was glad for them and all their successes, to me, it just seemed like stories from another world that hardly had anything to do with me.

Not that I didn't care or anything, but I was learning that sometimes the best thing you could do for the greater good was on a smaller scale. Heero said he'd become a lot happier when he stopped trying to focus on big problems he could never hope to fix on his own, and it didn't take me long to realize what he meant by that. It was helping me develop this sort of inner peace, and it made existence much more pleasant.

I mean, only up until recently, I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror because I hated the person I saw there whenever I did. I didn't know who he was -- couldn't tell if he was a friend or not. But now, it was strange to see myself, because when I _did_ look, I could tell I was changing -- that I _have_ changed. I guess I just never realized that all I needed was a hand to help me become better than the person I used to be.

Sometimes I wondered if it was something I'd been aware of, even if subconsciously. Maybe I'd just been ignorant of everyone else because I knew what I wanted and wouldn't settle for anything less. Or maybe I'd just crawled so far into myself, I'd somehow managed to lose sight even of that. All that darkness sure could make a person blind, I suppose. I felt like a blackbird that had been waiting all its life to fly.

But it's different now: I can see. Life was beautiful, and so was the world I breathed it in. And I wasn't so stupid anymore that I was couldn't tell why. One look into Heero's dark blue eyes, and I knew he was all I'd ever need. I made sure to tell him that every day -- and every night, when I took him to bed.

"You don't look a thing like Jesus," I'd say to him. "But you saved me anyway."

Then he'd always say back that there was no one you could save that couldn't be saved, and I'd laugh and kiss him soundly before showing him again how much I loved him.

Sometimes I wondered what I'd done to deserve a happy ending like this. A white knight -- even a tarnished one like Heero -- just didn't seem like the kind of thing that would fit into any fairytale I'd be a part of. And yet, there he was, still sleeping next to me like he didn't even give a damn -- like he was going to write himself into my story if it was the last thing he did. But if we were to suddenly die right now, I just hoped Heero knew I'd be there with him until the very end.

Happiness like this... I thought it was something that only existed in music. You'd hear it and just think that it was something fanciful and escapist and nothing that you'd ever really get to touch. It's just another great example of how fucking stupid I was, hearing all these words but never really listening to what they were saying. It was like I'd walked in a big circle to find the answer waiting for me at the beginning.

And in the end,  
The love you take  
Is equal to the love you make.

\-- D.M.

\- -

Postmarked 1 / 2 / AC212

~oOo~

Dear Friend:

You are cordially invited  
to celebrate the union of

**Duo Maxwell**

and

**Heero Yuy**

on the Tuesday afternoon  
of June the Seventh,  
at two o'clock  
at the Sanq Memorial Cathedral  
One Hundred Ninety-five Peacecraft Square East  
followed by a reception  
in the gardens of the Foreign Minister's residence  
Brussels, Belgium

~oOo~

Please RSVP  
care of Relena Darlian and her staff  
0032 -- 2 -- 005 -- 2134

\- -

**The End**

A/N: *crickets chirp* Is it really over? I hope it wasn't too much of a cop-out and that the work that went in at least garnered _some_ enjoyment for you!

To my lovely betas and "focus group" readers, you can have my anime collection. *falls over and dies*

\- -


End file.
